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THE 




Case of Reuben Malachi 


BY 

H/ SUTHEELAND EDWAEDS. 

1 1 



NEW YORK: 

GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

17 TO 37 Vandewater Street. 


TZ-3 




THE CASE OF KEUBEN MALACHI. 


CHAPTER 1. 

With only a few principles — to which, however, I hold 
tenaciously— I have scarcely any prejudices; and I try to 
judge men and women not by their birth, their social posi- 
tion, or their reputation, but in a direct manner by their 
absolute qualities. I confess, however, that I was a little 
staggered when the parentage was first made known to me 
of a very beautiful and singularly refined girl with whom I 
was already hopelessly in love. 

I became acquainted with her at Milan, where she was 
staying with her brother, a- lieutenant in one of our regi- 
ments of dragoon guards, and with a sort of chaperon or 
elderly companion. They had a suite of rooms on the first 
floor of the Hotel de la Ville, and it was only from meet- 
ing the brother, Tom Huntly, in the smoking-room and at 
the opera — where I occupied one night the stall next to his 
— that I came to know them. A day or two afterward, 
when I was inquiring at the box office of La Scala for a 
stall, and could not on any terms secure one, Mr. Huntly, 
who had .just taken a box, offered me a seat in it; and I 
accepted it with pleasure, partly because I was very anx- 
ious to hear Verdi's Aida," at that time a novelty, but 


6 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


principally because I should now have an opportunity of 
becoming personally acquainted with Mr. Huntly^s sister, 
whom I had hitherto admired only at a distance. 

I did not mind showing a little eagerness; and some 
minutes before the time fixed for the beginning of the per- 
formance I made my way to the box, whose number Mr. 
Huntly had given me. It was one of the best on the 
grand tier; and, pending the arrival of the Huntlys, I sat 
down, and soon became so absorbed in the beautiful music 
that I forgot everything else. 

Scarcely, however, had Masini, the tenor, begun his 
romance — Oelest Aida — when in came Tom Huntly, 
his sister (whose name, I found, was Florence), and Miss 
AVhitcombe, the companion. Having been introduced to 
the ladies I fell to the rear, ceding the place I had occu- 
pied to Miss Huntly, and taking my seat immediately be- 
hind her. Miss Whitcombe sat in front, side by side with 
her interesting charge, whom I now saw for the first time 
in evening dress. It became her, I thought, even more 
than her well-chosen, well-made walking costumes, of 
which she possessed a great variety. 

^ If I were to attempt a description of her toilet I should 
fall into some of those mistakes which men always commit 
when, with reckless daring, they seek to penetrate the mys- 
teries of feminine attire. I remember, however, that her 
dress was of pure white, and that it had a very ethereal 
look. But whether it was made of muslin, or crape, or 
gauze, I have not the least idea. Artists, I believe*, find it 
difficult to paint white upon white; and it is not every 
white skin that in a white dress is seen to advantage. But 


THE CASE OF REUBEH MALACHI. 


7 


the marble-like bust of the young girl who sat before me 
could not have been overshadowed by juxtaposition with 
any of the objects or materials which serve in the hands of 
writers to suggest whiteness of an intense kind. I knew 
before that her eyes were bright, and her hair brown; but 
I now saw for the first time how beautifully her head was 
placed on her shoulders, and I was struck more than ever 
by the purity of her complexion. Who, I asked myself, 
could these Huntlys be? The brother was in a cavalry 
regiment; the sister was a model of aristocratic beauty. 
I had met in my travels with a Huntly who did not speak 
one word of English, but who calmly called himself the 
Marquis of Huntly-Gordon;^^ and did so on the ground 
that he was the lineal descendant of the nobleman of that 
name whose title and estates were confiscated after the in- 
surrection of 1745. But the Huntlys of Milan (so to de- 
scribe them) were not in any way related to these Huntly- 
Gordons; and I noticed that they both looked a little 
confused when I asked Mr. Huntly whether such was per- 
chance the case. 

The Huntlys, or Huntly-Gordons, have property 
somewhere in Poland, I observed. 

“ I donT think we are in any way connected with 
them,^^ replied Miss Huntly. 

Our only foreign connection is with Lombardy,^^ said 
Tom Huntly; a statement at which his sister looked con- 
fused and almost irritated, while Miss Whitcombe became, 
I thought, graver than she had previously been. 

The father,^ ^ I said to myself, must have made his 
money in some financial speculations; or perhaps he is a 


8 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


banker. That is surely good enough for any one, though 
Miss Huntly does not seem to think so. 

I found, from some words interchanged with Miss Whit- 
combe, that that lady had been Miss Huntly^s governess; 
in which capacity she had traveled with her in various 
countries, stopping from time to time in some one of them 
that her pupil might have the advantage of studying the 
language among the natives, and with a native professor. 
At Milan Miss Huntly was chiefly occupied with musical 
work; and in the course of the evening her professor of 
singing, old Lamperti, of the Milan Conservatorio, came 
into the box, and remained for some time talking to her. 

Mr. Huntly was away from his regiment on four 
months^ leave. But the term had nearly expired, and in a 
few days he and his sister were to return by way of Switzer- 
land and France to England. 

The morning after my visit to the Huntlys^ box I called 
upon them at the hotel, and was invited to dinner for the 
same evening. I of course accepted; determined that my 
acquaintance with them should not, if I could help it, 
prove one of those traveling acquaintances which are strict- 
ly local. The impression made upon me at first sight by 
Miss Huntly’s grace and beauty lost nothing by repetition; 
and there was something so winning in her mariner, 
slightly diffident as it nevertheless was, that before I had 
seen her many times I felt sincerely attached to her, and 
ready to sacrifice myself in every possible way, if by so do- 
ing I could promote her happiness. 

The day before they were all to start for Switzerland 
Miss Huntly asked me, half in fun I thought at the time. 


THE CASE OF EEUBEN MALACHI. 


9 


why I did not accompany them. I replied, entirely in 
earnest, that nothing would give me greater pleasure; and 
two days later we were all established together in a suite of 
rooms at the Hotel de la Metropole, with the lake of 
Geneva at our feet. I had been adopted as one of the 
family; and it was only after a long argument and serious 
representations that, when the time came for paying the 
hotel-keeper, I succeeded in making Mr. Huntly accept 
my share of the bill. I had come by invitation, he argued ; 
which in a certain sense was true. Meanwhile, Miss Hunt- 
ly had treated me in the most friendly way. I could not 
say that she had, in popular parlance, encouraged my 
attentions. IN'or, indeed, so far as I knew, had I been 
attentive to her in any special manner. I had talked to 
her a good deal, and on many different subjects. But I 
could not be sure that she took as much interest in my 
conversation as I certainly did in hers. We made several 
excursions on the lake, visited the places associated with 
the memory of Voltaire, Eousseau, and Gibbon; went for 
a couple of days to Aix-les-Bains, and had still many places 
to see and many things to do, when it suddenly occurred to 
Huntly that if he did not start for England at once, and 
travel day and night, he would not get home before the ex- 
piration of his leave. It was decided then that the next 
morning he should take the train for Paris, leaving his 
sister and Miss Whitcombe to follow by easy stages. 

‘‘I don^t know what you propose to do, Woodhouse,^^ 
said Tom, but I hope, in any case, that we shall see you, 
and see you very often, when you get to England. I, as 
you know, am at Aldershot. But I often run up to town. 


10 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


and you can come and see me at the camp, if such things 
interest you. I dare say Florence has given you our Lon- 
don address; and when you happen to be in the Park, you 
won^t find Norfolk Street, Park Lane, very far. 

I thanked Huntly for his kindness, and assured him that 
I should take advantage of both his invitations. 1 at the 
same time gave him my address in the Inner Temple. I 
had already told both brother and sister that I was at the 
Bar, and to prevent all possibility of mistakes had ex- 
plained that I was a barrister without briefs. I had also 
endeavored to let it be understood that I had nothing to 
boast of in the way of private means. But people have 
such different ideas as to the meaning of the words well 
off,^^ ‘‘ badly off,""^ and so on; and in spite of my protest 
to the contrary the brother and sister — aided and abetted, 
no doubt, by Miss Whitcombe — seemed determined to re- 
gard me as a sort of modest millionaire. 

I found Huntly a very good fellow. But I was glad all 
the same when he took the train for Dijon on his way to 
Paris. Hitherto I had been obliged to divide my conversa- 
tion between him and his sister, with a word or two now 
and then to Miss Whitcombe. I should now have Flor- 
ence, more or less, to myself. 

Huntly and his charming sister were so open and 
straightforward, so entirely without afterthought or guile 
of any kind, that I could not suppose I had been left in 
Florence^’s society with a view to anything. The only view 
possible — if views were entertained — was a matrimonial 
one; and as the Huntlys were evidently rich, and evidently 
accustomed to good society, I could not see what they had. 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALAOHI. 


11 


to gain by allying themselves to a poor but costly person 
like myself. I had about two hundred and fifty pounds a 
year of my own, and I used to spend some three or four 
pounds a week in London for nine or ten months, that I 
might travel at my easy during the remainder of the year. 
The Huntlys might fancy from my mode of living now 
that I was on my travels, that I possessed a tolerable in- 
come; and the very day after her brother's departure Miss 
Huntly showed that this was her conviction by the way she 
questioned me as to my pursuits at this and that season of 
the year. 

Do you pass your winters at Nice, or Mentone, or 
where?^^ she asked. 

‘‘ I pass them at Pump Court, Inner Temple,^^ I replied. 

Oh, I see. You retire there when you have done your 
shooting in Scotland, or wherever it is you shoot. 

‘‘ I don^t shoot anywhere. 

Oh, you don^t care for shooting? Do you hunt 
much?^^ 

Not at all. I ehould hunt solicitors if the etiquette of 
the bar allowed it, but it is forbidden. 

I can^t understand you. I scarcely know when you 
are serious and when you are joking. 

That is a very poor compliment to my jokes. But, as 
I once before had the honor of saying to you, I am simply 
a barrister without briefs and with a taste for traveling. 
Travelers are described somewhere in one of Shakespeare^s 
plays as persons who spend their own land to see the land 
of others. But I never had any land to spend — nor much 
to make away with in any other form. 


12 


THE CASE OF REUBEK MALAOHI. 


You need not be so impressive on the point. It mat- 
ters very little to a young man beginning life whether he 
has money or not. On the whole, indeed, it is better that 
he should be without it/’ 

I prefer, as a question of power and dignity, the state 
of a rich man who, if it pleases him, can live like a poor 
one, to that of a poor man whose inferiority to the rich one 
makes itself felt in so many ways. In the long run, more- 
over, the poor and the rich can not see much of one an- 
other; and there are plenty of rich people who are well 
worth knowing. 

Tom has lots of money, and so have 1/’ said Florence. 

But I am sure I don^t care about it; and I should hate 
it if it had the effect of separating me from friends less 
fortunately situated. 

The motives of a poor man are sometimes open to sus- 
picion, when no doubt could be entertained as to those of a 
rich one. 

Who would doubt them merely by reason of his 
poverty? No one whose good opinion was worth having.’^ 

Suppose,^^ I said, ‘'a poor man loved sincerely, and 
for her sake alone, a rich woman, would he not feel some 
delicacy about declaring his affection?^^ 

He ought not. If he did it would be only from a feel- 
ing of petty pride, from an unwillingness to be indebted to 
liis wife for any portion of his success in life. I can think 
of no better use for a woman^s money than to expend it in 
aid of her husband. I mean when the husband is really a 
man worth helping. 

But for a feeling of what you call petty pride, I should 


THE CASE OF REFBEH MALACHI. 


13 


like very much to open my heart to you on this subject. 
But you know already wifch what regard, what affection, 
you have inspired me. If our positions were iu one respect 
reversed— if I wej-e rich and you were poor — I should 
hasten to say to you what now I can not but hesitate to ex- 
press. 

If you mean,^^ said Florence, withdrawing her hand 
from niine, that you would ask me to be your wife, I 
must tell you at once that it is impossible.-’^ 

Impossible!"’^ I exclaimed, with amazement, and also 
with a touch of indignation. You are not engaged 

I should have been behaving very badly to you if I 
were. But I am free. 

“ Then you do not care for me?^^ 

If I did not, should I have taken so much pleasure in 
your society?’’ 

This is cruel. You are simply tormenting me!” 

‘‘ I am behaving very badly, I know. I ought to have told 
you before. But I hated the idea of not seeing you again.” 

“ What mystery is this?” I asked. ‘‘If you have the 
least regard for me when I love you so sincerely, so de- 
votedly, how can there be any question of my never seeing 
you again?” 

“ If you had only known who I was, if you had only 
known who — or rather what — my father was, you might 
still, perhaps,, have taken some interest in me, but you 
would have shrunk from making me an offer.” 

“ You and your brother arc your father’s children. 
What can he have done to make you ashamed of him as 
you seem to be? Was he a financier, a commission agent. 


14 


THE CASE OF REUBEH MALACHI. 


an outside speculator in stocks and shares? What does 
that matter? Such occupations are lawful; and men who 
go in seriously for money-making can not afford to be par- 
ticular. 

Worse, much worse than that!^^ said Florence, putting 
her handkerchief to her eyes. 

‘‘ W^as he an advertising agent, or the proprietor of a 
religious newspaper? He was in any case your father; and 
whatever his faults may have been I should respect him 
for your sake. 

“ Papa had no faults. But he was in trade. 

‘‘In England we have cabinet ministers and sons of 
dukes in trade. 

“ But such a trade 

“ He may have been an old clothesman, a dealer in 
marine stores, a broker attending auctions, I love you all 
the same.^^ 

“ It was worse than that,^^ she murmured through her 
tears. 

“ The devil I said to myself. “ This is getting seri- 
ous. Worse than a broker?^ ^ I asked. 

“ He was a sort of broker, she sobbed rather than said. 

“ A sort of broker? You don^t mean a pawnbroker?^^ 

She remained speechless; and I understood that the fa- 
ther of the young woman whom I desired above all things 
to make my wife had made his money beneath the sign of 
the three balls. 

The first effect of this terrible discovery was, as I before 
said, to stagger me. But I resolved, out of consideration 
for Florence, not to show how severely I was hit. 


15 


THE CASE OF EEUBEN MALACHI. 

When in one of Mr. Byron amusing comedies an im- 
poverished gentleman of fashion is recommended for the 
sake of economy to take a house in Camden Town, his ad- 
viser adds, by way of consolation, that he can “ put 
Kegent^s Park on his cards. In like manner my much- 
loved Florence might, I thought, describe herself as the 
daughter of a silversmith or goldsmith, for assuredly her 
money-lending father must have dealt, among other 
things, in gold and silver. I pointed this out to her, and 
told her, moreover, that in the Middle Ages goldsmiths 
were looked upon as artificers of such a distinguished kind 
that they were accounted noble, and had letters of nobility 
specially granted to them. 

What, I added, was Benvenuto Cellini, that illustrious 
worker in the precious metals, but a goldsmith even as her 
father had beenV 

Did Benvenuto Cellini lend money on silver spoons?^^ 
asked Florence. 

Not exactly. But he carved and ornamented silver 
work of all kinds, and afterward took money for what lie 
had done. Seriously, however, was that all you had to 
tell me, and was there no other objection?^’ 

None!^' she whispered, placing her hand once more in 
mine. 

W^ithout waiting for any further reply I kissed her ten- 
derly, and as Miss Whitcombe happened just at this mo- 
ment to come into the room I hastened, by way of expla- 
nation, to tell her that I had the happiness of being en- 
gaged to Miss Huntly. 


16 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


CHAPTER II. 

The lafce Mr. Huntly must, when I came to think of it, 
have been a pawnbroker of rather a distinguished kind, or 
lie scarcely would have been allowed to purchase for his 
son a commission in the army. 

As soon as I got back to England, whither I traveled in 
company with Florence and Miss Whitcombe, I wrote to 
Tom Huntly asking him whether I should go and see him 
at Aldershot, or whether he would come to me in London. 
I had previously informed him of my engagement to his 
sister, and had of course expressed a hope that the mar- 
riage would be in all respects agreeable to him. He re- 
plied by telegram that he would be in London that very 
day, and the same afternoon he called upon me in the 
Temple.. He was very anxious that there should be no 
mistake as to the position of his family. 

‘‘You know, of course, he said — “ Florence is sure to 
have told you — that there is a blot on our escutcheon; or 
rather it is blotted all over. Indeed, there is no escutch- 
eon.^’ 

“ I know,” I replied, “ that your father was in trade.” 

“ Yes; and such a trade! But you would never have 
thought so by his appearance or his conversation. He had 
a lucrative business, and did not like giving it up, though 
my poor mother was constantly begging him to do so. It 
would have been better for us, perhaps, in one sense, if he 
had, though very much worse in another.” 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


17 


I said to myself that, in spite of the homage rendered by 
Huntly to his father, it was doubtless the mother whose 
qualities he, and above all his sister Florence, had in- 
herited. She was an Italian, I afterward learned, of good 
family and perfect breeding; and her relations had shown 
great indignation when they discovered that the man she 
had married was not, as they had imagined, a merchant 
dealing in the precious metals, but a shop-keeper who, 
while selling articles of gold and silver, made most of his 
money by advancing small sums to wretched people on any 
articles of marketable value that they were able to deposit 
with him. 

The supposed bullion merchant and goldsmith had ex- 
plained to his wife that by giving up the pawnbroking 
business he would diminish his income by more than one 
half. This seemed to her a matter of no great import- 
ance, and she would have forgiven more willingly the de- 
ception practiced upon her parents and herself if her hus- 
band had, even at the last moment, consented to abandon 
a method of money-making which she looked upon as dis- 
reputable, if not absolutely immoral. Mr. Huntly main- 
tained that it was no more immoral than any other kind of 
business, nor indeed so profitable as many to which no evil 
reputation is attached. He was prepared, however, out of 
regard for his wife^s scruples, to relinquish it, when sud- 
denly she died, leaving him with three young children to 
take care of. He now saw no valid reason why he should 
give up his house in the country, why he should put down 
his horses and carriages, why, above all, he should deprive 
himself of the means of giving a first-rate education to his 


18 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


children, and leaving them at his death amply provided 
for. 

He accordingly kept on the business, and continued to 
make money by it until, about a year before I made the 
acquaintance of Mr. and Mrs. Huntly at Milan, he died. 

I came to the conclusion that Mr. Huntly must have 
lent considerable sums to some high official at the Horse 
Guards or the War Office, or connected in some way with 
the commander-in-chief, though on this point his son, as a 
matter of course, gave me no information — probably, in- 
deed, possessed none himself. I felt certain, too, that the 
applicant for the commission had not described himself as 
a pawnbroker, and that he must have been represented to 
the authorities as a goldsmith and jeweler of the highest 
standing. 

Mr. Huntly had done his best to purify his sons from 
the malodorous reputation attaching to them in virtue of 
his business, by sending them to good schools. After en- 
deavoring in vain to place them at more than one private 
establishment from which they were turned back on the 
ground that only the sons of gentlemen were received, 
he resolved to try public ones, where no objection was 
made. 

Thomas, the one who was now in the army, he sent to 
Eton, where, as soon as the boy^s origin was discovered, he 
became generally known as Broker. Tom had the 
good sense to accept the designation as if he saw nothing 
opprobrious in it, though on one occasion, when its offen- 
sive character was accentuated in too provoking a manner, 
he showed fight, and to such effect that the boy who had 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 19 

taunted him abstained carefully from doing so again. He 
was still called Broker/^ but he pretended not to care, 
and after a time, when he had got used to it, and when it 
was quite understood that though he did not mind a joke 
he would not stand a deliberate insult, he accepted the 
nickname as though it were no worse than any other. 

The other son, William by name, went to Harrow, where 
he was called first ‘‘Up the Spout, and afterward when 
this expression seemed too circuitous, “My Uncle, and 
finally “ Uncle. Numbers of boys called him “ Uncle 
without attaching any particular meaning to the word; and 
as he, like his brother Thomas, was a good-natured and 
manly young fellow, the inutility of teasing one who was 
not to be teased was after a time fully recognized. 

On leaving Harrow, William Huntly, the elder of the 
two brothers, went to Oxford, and three years afterward 
entered the Church, just about the time when Thomas left 
Eton to join the regiment to which he had been appointed. 
All this was told me by Tom Huntly, when, after calling 
upon me at my chambers, he dined with me at the Trav- 
elers. 

I also learned from him that he and his brother had each 
inherited twenty thousand pounds from their father. 

. “ You do not ask,^^ he added after a pause, “ what 
money Florence has. 

“I hope I need not tell you that I donT particularly 
care.^^ 

“ Of course you donT. But I must let you know, all the 
same. I am afraid you will find it very awkward.'’^ 

“ Is the money tied up? So much the better. 


20 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


“ Well, I must tell you. I don^t think you^ll like it. 
But my father left her the business.^'' 

I remained silent, not by any means pleased at the idea 
of my darling Florence being a pawnbroker. 

Why not sell it?^^ I asked. Why not make it over 
to a Limited Liability Company or something of . that 
kind?^^ 

I, personally, have of course no wish to keep it in the 
family; nor has my brother. But it brings in some four 
or five thousand a year, and I don^t suppose it would fetch 
more than ten or twelve thousand pounds; and for that 
reason, though Florence has always been most anxious to 
get rid of it, we felt it unfair to encourage her to do so. 
It is a low business, no doubt. But to say that there is 
anything wicked in it is absurd. On the Continent the 
large money-lending establishments kept by the State are 
looked upon as charitable institutions; and a man of such 
high birth as Saint Simon, the founder of the sect of Saint 
Simonians, and a lineal descendant of the duke who wrote 
the memoirs, was not ashamed to become a clerk in the 
Mont de Piete of Paris. 

Pawnbrokers, all the same,^^ I objected, take high 
interest from starving customers. 

The baker who sells them bread, the butcher who sells 
them meat, do precisely the same thing: only that, as a 
rule, their profits are larger. But it is no use discussing 
the abstract question. I understand your dislike to the 
business, and fully share it. As I before said, I look 
upon it as low, but it is not immoral. If it were, it would 
be wrong to sell it; the only thing to do would be to bring 


THE CASE OF REUBEFT MALACHI. 


21 


it to an end. There are many reasons for not turning it 
over to a Limited Liability Company. Otherwise there is 
scarcely any trade — none that I know of — in which men 
will not place their money in view of large profits. An- 
nounce the Mount of Piety for advancing money at twenty 
per cent, interest on portable security realizable at the ex- 
piration of one year, and the shares would be taken u]) in 
no time. But it would perhaps be necessary to go into 
particulars; to identify Br unton, the name under which the 
business has been carried on since my father^ s death, with 
the long-established firm of Huntly; and that we should 
not care for. However, when you are married it will be 
for you to decide. The concern will then be yours. 

‘‘ I shall, in spite of myself, be a pawnbroker,^^ I refiect- 
ed; and the notion certainly did not fill me with delight. 

‘‘ Well,^^ I said, inasmuch as you, your brother, Flor- 
ence, and myself are all of one mind, there can be no diffi- 
culty about the matter. If the business were sold for only 
ten thousand pounds, which is what you say it would fetch, 
Florence and myself would, with my own money, have 
plenty to live upon.^^ 

‘‘ Without counting at least as much that during the last 
few years Florence must have saved. 

Oh, indeed! I, as 1 have told you, have only about 
£250 a year; the interest, that is to say, on £8000. But I 
suppose I shall some day get a little practice. Meanwhile, 
how is the business we were talking of carried on?^^ 

The old foreman manages it.^^ 

“ I suppose I shall have to see him.^^ 

“ It would be better, if you donT mind. 


THE CASE OF REUBEX MALACHI. 


22 


Mind? Not in the least I will call upon him as soon 
as possible after our marriage; before, if you like/^ 

The sooner the better, I should think, said Huntly. 

His name is Brunton, and you will find him at 126 Cov- 
entry Street, a corner house/ ^ 

All right, I replied. I will speak to Florence 
about it to-morrow morning, and see him, if possible, the 
same afternoon. 

Florence, when the next morning I called upon her, begged 
me to sell the business straight off for anything it would 
fetch, and she was particularly anxious that I should get 
rid of it before our marriage, so that in becoming my wife 
she might not endow me with a possession of which she was 
ashamed. I thought the best thing to do would be to ad- 
vertise for a purchaser. But before taking that step I went 
to Coventry Street to talk the matter over with Mr. Brun- 
ton. Above the shop were the traditional three balls; and 
I could not help smiling when I saw how small they were. 
Arranged symmetrically in a straight line they suggested, 
not the sign of the ignoble money-lender, but the coronet 
of the peer. 

As I entered the shop the cheerful but penniless Baffles 
— ‘‘Augustus Baffles of the Parliamentary Bar,^^ as he 
loved to call himself — saw me go in; and to indicate what 
he believed to be the object of my visit, went through the 
pantomime of drawing a watch from his pocket. I retraced 
my steps in order to explain to him that he was under a mis- 
take. I added that I only wanted to make some inquiries. 

“ To ask how much he would lend you on it?^^ said the 
incredulous Baffles. 


THE CASE OF REUBEK MALACHI. 


23 


No, really!^^ I protested. I vvaated to buy some- 
thing.^^ But as I could not think at the moment of what 
it was I proposed to purchase, Baffles shook his head and 
went his way laughing. 

Before venturing again into Mr. Brunton^’s offlce,^^ as 
an inscription over the private door proclaimed it to be, I 
looked up and down the street to see that no one I knew 
was watching me. Then, feeling satisfied that I was not 
observed, I slunk in, and asked a young man who was 
standing behind the counter if Mr. Brunton was at home. 

He is, sir,^^ said the young man. But perhaps it is 
something I can do for you?’^ 

I want to see him on private business. Take him my 
card, please, and this letter. 

The letter was from Florence, saying, in a few words, 
that she wished Mr. Brunton to see me about selling the 
concern. 

Mr. Woodhouse? Please come in,^^ said Mr. Brunton, 
motioning me into an inner-room. Have you been Jong 
in the business? 

I am a member of the Bar,""^ I replied, ‘‘ and forbid- 
den by its rules to trade. 

Then you are not prepared to purchase?^^ 

I came here to talk with you about the best way of 
finding a purchaser. 

I beg your pardon, sir. I did not mean to be uncivil. 
But gentlemen go into businesses of all kinds now. Welb 
you want to see me,^^ he continued, about selling the 
concern. Dear me, what a pity to do so! A business that 
has been in the family for three generations, and that 


24 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


brings in a clear four thousand a year. What I should ad- 
vise would be to take down the sign altogether, and receive 
no petty pledges. We should then be as respectable as any 
bank.^^ 

The pawnbroker may, I suppose, be looked upon as 
the banker of the poor?^^ 

‘ ^ Yes, and the banker of the rich also. You should see 
tlie diamonds that are brought here toward the end of the 
London season. I believe we have lent money to every 
reigning family in Europe, bar one. 

There is a good deal no doubt to be said on both sides 
of the question. But the business is in any case to be sold. 
Yow, how are we to set about it?^^ 

By an advertisement in the ‘ Pawnbroker's Gazette.^ 
Why not advertise in the ‘ Times 
That might also be done. We should be addressing, 
of course, a wider public, though I donT think there ^s 
much chance of getting a customer outside the trade. 
There has been a gentleman already in treaty for it,^^ con- 
tinued Mr. Brunton — old Reuben Malachi.^^ 

A Hebrew gentleman, I imagine. 

‘‘ Yes, I fancy he^s a Jew. But whatever he is, he does 
not offer money enough. Perhaps when he sees the ad- 
vertisement, and knows what it refers to, he will spring a 
little. 

Is it any use my going to see him?^^ 

Well, perhaps it might be. He said of his own accord 
that he^d give eight thousand, which means twelve thou- 
sand if he can not get it for less.^^ 

Mr. Malachi lived in Craven Street, Strand, and I deter- 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


25 


mined to go and see him at once. Just as I was going out 
I looked down the shop, and saw behind a long counter a 
number of separate boxes like stalls in a stable, in which 
stood the customers, who had como to make olferings at 
the Temple of the Three Balls. One of them was that 
same A ugustus Raffles, who had been pleased to jest at my 
supposed intention to do the very thing which he this mo- 
ment was engaged upon. Raffles, in other words, was 
pawning his watch. In the box next to him was a miser- 
able, besotted-looking woman, who wished to raise money 
on a rich sealskin jacket, evidently not her own. One of 
the shopmen was questioning her about it, and she said it 
was the property of Miss Ada Montmorency, who had sent 
her out to pledge it. In a tliird box there was a quiet-look- 
ing young man in a threadbare coat, who prof erred as 
security a case of surgical instruments. 

Raffles v^^as too intent on getting as much money as he 
could for his watch to notice me; nor, in my hurried pass- 
age from Mr. Brunton^s office through the end of the shop 
to the street, did I give him much time to do so. It struck 
me, however, that before the business was given up it 
might be interesting to study the persons of such different 
kinds who came to Mr. Brunton^s in search of ready cash. 
To avoid being recognized by impecunious and reckless 
friends, like Mr. Augustus Raffles, it would be necessary to 
adopt some disguise. A wig, for instance, a pair of false 
whiskers, a sliirt collar of the last fashion but one, and a 
pair of spectacles. 

While thinking the matter over I made my way toward 
Craven Street, and at No. 80, almost the last house in the 


26 


THE CASE OF REUBEH MALACHI. 


street at the river end, found Mr. Malaclii^s abode. He 
was a little hook-nosed, grisly old man, with an exterior 
which gave no sign of the wealth he was said to possess. 
When I mentioned to him the business on which I had 
called, he began by protesting that too much money was 
asked. If, he said, seven or eight thousand would be ac- 
cepted, he thought he could introduce a party; but beyond 
eight thousand he would not go. I told him that the busi- 
ness was valued by Mr. Brunton at fifteen thousand, but 
that the proprietors whom Mr. Brunton represented would 
accept twelve, adding that this was their lowest price. Mr. 
Malachi declared that eight thousand was all that it was 
worth. On that I told him that we were advertising for a 
purchaser, and that in the course of a few days we should 
close with the highest offer, which might possibly be more 
than twelve thousand. He then altered his tone and said 
he would see what could be done if he were first allowed to 
inspect the books. To this I agreed; and, after leaving 
him, I returned to Mr. Brunton to say that Mr. Malachi 
would call, and that the books were to be shown to him. 
1 added that there was a chance of his giving twelve thou- 
sand pounds for the business; in which case he was to have 
it, irrespectively of such answers as the advertisements 
anight bring. 

1 wished, as I was sure Florence and her two brothers 
also did, to get rid of the concern with as little publicity as 
possible; and though Mr. Malachi would probably not give 
full value for it, he was prepared to purchase it from Mr. 
Brunton direct, whereas other buyers might have asked 
troublesome questions as to whether Mr. Brunton was 


THE CASE OF REUBEH MALAOHI. 


27 


really the proprietor, and, if not, who there was in the 
background. 

As Malachi would be some time making a thorough ex- 
amination of the books it was arranged that he should have 
a clear week given him for an answer. Florence, when I 
took her the news, was delighted; and it was arranged that 
our marriage should take place as soon as the sale had been 
effected. She was amused at my idea of putting on a dis- 
guise and watching the customers as they came in with 
their pledges of various kinds. But she did not think I 
really meant to carry it out until I called the next morn- 
ing wearing false hair, a false beard, and a pair of green 
spectacles/^’ 

Your make-up is very effective,^^ she said. But I 
want you to pay some visits with me to-day. So for the 
present you must postpone your entertainment. 

“ Where do you propose to go?’^ I asked. 

“ To Mrs. Walsingham^s. She is going to invite you to 
her ball; but I want her to see you first. And to Lady 
Fortescue^s — one of our neighbors in the country — who is 
now up in London; and Mrs. Efl&ngton\ the wife of an 
officer in Tom’s regiment. And then you must not forget 
that my brother William is to dine with us — the clergy- 
man, you know.” 

All right,” I said. I will take a cab to the Temple, 
and as soon as I have had time to resume my usual appear- 
ance, will come back.” I had of course thoroughly 
dressed ” the part I proposed to play; that is to say, I 
had put on clothes of becoming antiquity to suit the sol- 
emn wig and the venerable beard. 


28 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


Lady Fortescue expected us at lunch-time. Several peo- 
ple had been asked to meet us; and as Mrs. Walsingham 
was among them we deferred our visit to that lady until 
another day. 

Florence introduced me to a man named Eupert 
Trevelyan, who, she told me, was a great friend of 
both her brothers. He seemed much interested in a Miss 
Ethel Montcalm, a slight, delicate girl with a pale com- 
plexion, and with eyes and hair as black as ink. Miss 
Montcalm, on her side, divided her attention impartially 
between Mr. Trevelyan and a sandy-haired, sallow-com- 
plexioned man with enormous feet, who was introduced to 
me as Mr. Brownlow. The young lady, who was engross- 
ing the attention of the two men, could not, I thought, 
have much taste, unless she preferred the manly, brown- 
visaged Trevelyan to his bilious-looking, splay-footed rival. 
Whether such was the case I could not tell by any direct 
evidence; for Miss Montcalm held herself impartially be- 
tween her two admirers — whether because she cared for 
both, or because she cared for neither, or because she 
wished to play off one against the other, or simply because 
she did not choose to reveal her preferences in mixed com- 
pany, I of course could not tell. 

Mr. Brownlow was, I was told, a very rich man. Mr. 
Trevelyan, who was an Indian official on leave, had no 
money of his own, though he had good prospects, in the 
well-paid service to which he belonged. 

And which of them,^^ I said to Florence, when she 
gave me this information, will she marry 

Of course she prefers Eupert. Indeed she is very much 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


29 


attached to him. But her family want her to marry Mr. 
Brow alow, who is immensely rich.^^ 

Besides, they probably don^t want to lose her. If she 
marries Mr. Trevelyan she will, of course, have to go back 
to India with liim. ^ ^ * 

Exactly so. But I don^t think she will ever marry 
Mr. Brownlow, whether she gives up Eupert or not. Eu- 
pert is an excellent fellow. My brothers, who know him 
well, have the highest opinion of him; and he will be quite 
heartbroken if she throws him over. 

Lunch being at an end, Florence and myself had a long 
conversation in the drawing-room with Mr. Trevelyan, 
who, after a time, began to talk to us about his matrimo- 
nial prospects. Miss MontcalnFs parents would, he said, 
consent to his marriage with their daughter Ethel, if he 
could settle a sum of four thousand pounds upon her.. He 
had proposed to insure his life for that amount, but by 
reason of his residence in India he would have to pay con- 
siderably more than the ordinary rate, and this, deducted 
from his salary, would not allow them enough to live on 
with any degree of comfort. Ethel, he said, had no money 
of her own, and he did not think it altogether unreasonable 
that her parents, rich as they were, should insist on her 
being provided for in case of his premature death. But it 
was difficult for him all the same to raise the sum required. 
‘‘ My brothers would lend it him, and so would I, most 
willingly,^ ^ said Florence, after he had left us, but from 
some mistaken notion of dignity he will not accept it.^^ 

I could not but hope that Mr. Trevelyan would find 
some way out of his difficulty; though who was to help 


30 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


him if he refused assistance at the hands of his best friends? 
In the evening, after we had paid all our visits, Mr. 
Trevelyan jonied us at dinner. The more I saw of him 
the more he interested me, and we soon became excellent 
friends. I found William Uuntly rather more reserved 
than his brother Tom; but he seemed to have the same 
manly, generous disposition. He told me that he would 
do anything, no matter what, to help Eupert Trevelyan, 
and said what Florence had already given me to under- 
stand, that if Miss Montcalm^s parents would only allow 
them to do so he and his brother would gladly settle the 
money upon her from their own resources. But even if 
the parents did consent, Eupert, he said, would not for a 
moment hear of such a thing. 


. CHAPTEE HI. 

When I told Mr. Brunton of my wish to see something 
of the inner life of the pawnbroking business, he at once 
entered into my idea. He assured me, however, that I 
should not find it so interesting as I probably anticipated. 

I know what you think, sir,^^ he said. You fancy 
that when you have been dining with a duchess the night 
before she will turn up here the next morning to pawn her 
silver aprons. But that does not happen very often. 

I told Mr. Brunton that I knew very few duchesses— 
except, of course, Neapolitan ones; and that I had never 
suspected them of pledging anything more valuable than 
their affections. As for their aprons — 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


31 


“I did not mean aprons, sir/^ interrupted Mr. Brun- 
ton ; ^ ‘ I meant a-perns — the things they place on the din- 
ner-tables with flowers in them. The Duchess di Malfi 
sent in two beauties the week before last, and took away 
£180 on them. They were brought here by her butler — 
an Itahan, like herself. But there are ladies, of course, 
who would not trust their servants in such a matter for 
fear of its getting known. They would come themselves, 
or more probably would ask us to wait on them. 

Mr. Brunton had, I believe, an uneasy suspicion that I 
wanted to learn for myself what amount of business, day by 
day, was done. He, at all events, pointed out to me that 
this could be ascertained, beyond the possibility of doubt, 
from the books. I assured hirn that there could be no 
question of want of confidence on my parfc, and that my 
only object was to study human nature, and to see for my- 
self the unhappy, or simply heedless, persons who found 
themselves compelled by necessity, or by their own vices, 
to sacrifice, after the manner of vicious people in general, 
the future to the present. 

All right, sir,^’ said Mr. Brunton. Would you like 
to take the things in yourself 

That,^^ I said, would scarcely be necessary. 

No, sir; you wouldnT know how to value them. You 
would probably lend too much.^^ 

‘‘ Or too little,^ ^ I suggested. 

That wouldn^t matter, sir. Besides, if you offered too 
little they would go awa}^ They are quite as knowing as 
we are. Indeed, they generally do their best to take us in. 

It was arranged that I should have the free run of the 


32 


THE CASE OF RET^P.EK MALACHT. 


shop, and I spent some hours watching the customers — 
some of them miserable, some dissipated, some common- 
place, some assignable to no recognized category — who 
offered rags or gold as security for the ready money they 
were in need of. The sight of so much wretchedness, per- 
versity, or simple folly was not exhilarating; and after a 
few hours, heartily sick of what I had seen, I was about to 
leave the place, when suddenly Mr. Brunton said to me, 

‘‘ Here is a case, sir, in which we should like to have 
your opinion. A young man wants a sovereign on this 
picture. 

The presumable author of the work was a pale, sliglit, 
interesting, bright-eyed, rather long-haired little man, who 
seemed scarcely more than twenty years of age. Unwill- 
ing, beneath the painter^ s very eyes, to examine the picture 
with the brutal exactness required by the circumstances, I 
took it into a room at the back — Mr. Brunton ^s so-called 

office — and looked at it very carefully. It was a por- 
trait of Lord Beaconsfield — Mr. Disraeli as he then was — 
and, without much artistic merit, was nevertheless a mar- 
velous likeness; so like, indeed, that it bordered on carica- 
ture, and made one smile to look at it. In spite of a cer- 
tain delicacy about penetrating the secret of the young 
man^s poverty, I could not help asking him a few ques- 
tions, which, in the mouth of an apparent pawnbroker, 
were perhaps out of place. 

I will give you the sovereign with pleasure, I said ; 
and taking one out of my waistcoat-pocket, I handed it to 
him. “ But when you paint as well as this you ought not 
to be in want of such a small sum.^^ 


THE CASE OF REUBEK MALACHI. 


33 


My eyes are not very good; and during the best light I 
have to work at other things. Otherwise I might perhaps 
do better/^ he replied. 

But why don^t you go to a picture-dealer?^^ 

I did so before coming here, but I was only offered 
twelve shillings. 

I was glad to know that the young man would not think 
I was behaving shabbily to him in lending him only a 
sovereign. As he did not go away I asked him with whom 
he was studying. He replied, what I had already supposed 
was the case, that he studied with no one. He was self- 
taught, he said, and painted only for his own amusement 
until one day, when he was very much in want of money, it 
occurred to him that if he did portraits of a few celebrated 
men of the day he might possibly be able to sell them. He 
had tried some well-known dealers with a portrait of the 
Emperor Napoleon; but they refused to treat with him, 
and told him, contemptuously, to take it to the pawn- 
broker's. Thereupon he brought it to Mr. Brunton, who 
had lent him ten shillings on it. 

This is not the way we do business, sir,^'’ whispered 
Mr. Brunton, at this moment. We never give all that’s 
asked; and that is precisely why the young man wanted so 
much. Besides, he must have a ticket. 

‘^Make it out, please,^’ I said; and thereupon Mr. 
Brunton wrote on a small square of cardboard a receipt for 
a picture, on which the sum of £1 had been advanced. 

‘‘ What name shall we sayr’^ asked Mr. Brunton. 

I think it was Brown last time,^^ answered the young 
artist. Suppose we give Smith a turn for a change;” 


34 


THE CASE OF KEUBEN MALACHL 


and having received the ticket, he looked at it with half- 
closed eyes and said, 

I can^t see what name you have written. It looks like 
Jones. But it doesn^t matter. Good-afternoon;^^ and he 
left the office, evidently well satisfied with the result of his 
visit. 

He is a clever young raan,^^ I said, “ and has artistic 
vision, in spite of his weak eyes. That portrait is very 
striking. 

He is one of Malachi^s clerks, said Mr. Brunton. 

What! Malachi the money-lender, who is in treaty for 
this business?^ ^ 

Yes, sir; the same. If he knew the young man found 
time to paint portraits he would stop it out of his wages. 

I would willingly have given a sovereign for the pict- 
ure myself. 

Then you should have bought it from him, sir. He 
would have been very glad to sell it. Kow we shall have 
to keep it for a year, and then put it up at auction, and I 
shall be very much astonished if we get our money back.^^ 
The incident of the picture had interested- me, and I 
thought I would now wait a little time longer at Mr. Brun- 
ton^s, on the chance of some like thing occurring. I was 
soon rewarded by the appearance of a little boy, apparently 
about ten years of age, who entered one of the boxes, and 
in a piping voice called out. 

What can you lend me on my horse and cart?’^ 

Your horse and cart, my little manr^^ said Mr. Brun- 
ton, as he examined the toy which the child, with a busi- 
ness-like air, had deposited on the counter. We havenT 


THE CASE OF EEUBEH MALACHI. 


35 


any stables here. Besides, your horse would eat too much 
corn. You had better go back as fast as you can to your 
mother, and tell her I said so. 

What do you want the money for, my child?^^ I asked. 

“ Want to buy some sweets,^^ he said. 

Well, here^s twopence for you. Take your horse and 
cart away, and if you ever come here again you will be 
given in charge, and the police will wliip you. 

The boy looked very much astonished, then laughed, as 
if he quite entered into the spirit of the jest, and went 
away. 

He knew you were chaffing him, sir,^^ said Mr. Br un- 
ton. 

But I was not. I was quite serious. 

‘‘ His mother sends him here with spoons and forks, and 
anything she can raise money upon. She spends the cash 
in gin. The child, for the present, does hot go beyond 
lollypops.""^ 

A flashily attired young woman now came in, with what 
she called a diamond brooch, which turned out to be a 
brooch ornamented with crystals of the first quality. 

Any inexperienced person, said Mr. Brunton, might 
well mistake them for brilliants. But he knew better; 
and the owner of the brooch had to take it away. 

I now once more prepared to go. But one of the assist- 
ants was just then attending to a gentleman who wanted to 
borrow twenty-five pounds on a diamond ring; and as I 
was about to leave the shop the mian brought it to Mr. 
Brunton, who, calling my attention to the stone, said in a 
low voice. 


36 


THE CASE OF REUEEH MALA CHI. 


There no mistake about this. I should be very glad 
to buy it for thirty or forty. 

The diamond was indeed a large one, and it was richly 
set. 

Light the gas/^ called out Mr. Brunton. It shines 
in the dusk like a star/ ^ he whispered to me; but I 
should like to examine it by gas-light all the same.^^ 

It was now about five o^clock, or even later; and the 
growing darkness of an October afternoon could scarcely 
be favorable for the valuation of precious stones. 

^‘I could make it twenty/^ said Mr. Brunton, address- 
ing the man who had brought the ring. He had subjected 
it to a close scrutiny, and had satisfied himself that the 
diamond was genuine, and worth much more than the sum 
for which it was offered.* But on principle, and as a mat- 
ter of habit, he was unwilling to give the full amount re- 
quired. 

Make it twenty, then,^^ said the man. 

I fancied, as he spoke, that I had heard his voice before. 
I looked at him through my green spectacles, and saw that 
it was Mr. Brownlow, of the.' bilious countenance and the 
massive feet. However, it was not my affair if this mil- 
lionaire found himself momentarily in want of twenty 
pounds; and I felt at least as anxious to hide my identity 
from him as he, I knew, would be to conceal his from me. 

‘‘What name, sir?’* said Mr. Brunton, as he himself 
made out the ticket. 

“Mr. Huntingdon,” was the reply, “12 Southampton 
Street, Bedford Square.” 

“ My friend lies with precision, ” I said to myself; for 


THE CASE OF KEUBEH MALACHI. 


37 


Mi\ Brownlow, as I happened to have heard^ was staying 
afc Long^s Hotel in Bond Street. However^ Mr. Brunton 
had already told me that it was not usual in these cases to 
insist on the real name and address. So I behaved to Mr. 
Brownlow as, under like circumstances, I should have 
wished him to behave to me. I abstained, that is to say, 
from all interference in his business; and he went away 
with Mr. Brunton^s twenty pounds in his pocket. As soon 
as he had gone I told Mr. Brunton that he had given a false 
name and address. 

‘‘That doesnT matter, sir,^^ said Mr. Brunton. “I 
suppose if you know him he^s all right. 

“ He is said to be a very rich man; but there must be 
some mistake about that.'^^ 

“ Why so, sir? Eich men are sometimes in want of 
money as well as poor ones.-’^ 

“ A rich man has an account of some kind at his bank- 
er's; and he can always get a check changed at his club, or 
at his hotel, if, like Mr. Brownlow, he is staying at one. 

“ But he may be a mile or two away from his hotel or 
his club, and may want the money immediately. Know- 
ing what I do of this trade, and of the sort of people who 
come here, I can think of half a dozen reasons for wEich 
he might have wanted five, or ten, or twenty pounds, at a 
moment ^s notice. He might, for instance, have wanted to 
make a present; to buy a piece of jewelry, and take it away 
with him from some particular shop.^^ 

“ CouldnT he have ordered it to be sent home to him?^^ 
“ Not if he wanted it immediately. Not if the young 
lady he intended it for was waiting in the shop for him to 


38 


THE CASE OF KEUBEH MALACHL 


pay the bill. Gentlemen who refuse themselves nothing, 
will sometimes do the strangest things on the spur of the 
moment. 

Well, it^s not my affair/^ I said. It rests between 
you and — this gentleman. Mr. Huntingdon he calls him- 
self, doesn^t he?^^ 

Mr. Huntingdon is the name he gave me.^^ 

I sha^n^t tell anything. I disguised myself, not that I 
might divulge secrets, but simply to see what was going 
on.^^ 

I hope it has interested jou^ sir?^^ 

Yes, it certainly has. I used to look upon it as a very 
hard-hearted business. But the people who come here 
seem for the most part to get what they want, and they all 
go away with a contented air. Nor are they to be pitied 
so much as I had imagined — except, perhaps, that young 
artist and the medical student who pawned his instru- 
ments. I am really very sorry for both of them. 

You gave Malachi^s clerk more than his picture was 
worth, sir, and that reminds me — 

Mr. Brimton went to the till, and taking out a sovereign, 
handed it to me in lieu of the one which I had advanced 
out of my own pocket to the painter of Mr. Disraeli’s por- 
trait. 

It was now six o’clock, and at seven I was to dine with 
Florence and her two brothers in Norfolk Street, Park 
Lane. It was high time then for me to go back to the 
Temple and dress. 

I had not, meanwhile, heard anything more from Mr. 
Malachi about the business; and though it is never good 


THE CASE OF REUBEET MALACHI. 


39 


policy to press an intending purchaser for a decision, I 
thought, if time permitted, I might as well look in for a 
moment at Craven Street to ask him when he proposed to 
inspect the books. Then it seemed to me that it would be 
better to dress first and call at Craven Street afterward, on 
my way to Park Lane. 

But when I left the Temple it was already a quarter to 
seven, so that I had only just time, in a swift hansom cab, 
to get to Florence's by the dinner hour. Mr. Trevelyan 
drove up to the door at the same time as myself, and we 
went in together. 

You seem in good spirits, Eupert,^^ said Tom Huntly, 
as Trevelyan shook hands with him. 

Yes,^^ said Mr. Trevelyan, I have settled the busi- 
ness at last. It was a difficult matter; but I have arranged 
it now. I can put down the money as soon as my stern old 
father-in-law desires. 

Your father-in-law!^^ said Florence, who was amused 
as well as pleased at Trevelyan^ s now confident manner. 

I am glad to hear you give him that name. But do not 
tempt the fates. T beret’s many a slip, you know. Have 
you read Alfred de Musset^s ^ La Co ope et le Levre 

Of course I have. But I donT think in my case there 
is any jealous rival to fear.^^ 

Of the two rivals, if rivals they ever were,^^ said Flor- 
ence, the jealous one was certainly not Mr. Brownlow.""^ 
It was not jealousy. It was restless anxiety caused by 
the prospect of losing what rightfully belonged to me; in- 
tense annoyance at seeing an odious man lying in wait for 
what, by everything sacred, was already my own.-^^ 


40 


THE CASE OE KEUBEET MALACHI. 


Brownlow/^ said Tom Hiintly, “ is so rich that ‘’he 
will find plenty of young women ready to console him/^ 
‘‘lam afraid so/^ said Florence. 

Dinner, meanwhile, was going on, and on the production 
of the champagne, formal congratulations were offered to 
the fortunate Eupert Trevelyan. We had nearly finished 
when the voices of two men were heard crying outside 
the window, in tones of well assumed earnestness, the news 
of some horrible murder. 

“Frightful murder roared the newspaper venders. 
“ Frightful murder in the Strand 
“ Do you want a paper I said to Florence. “ Are 
you going to send out for one?^^ 

“ No, I don^t care about murders, and it^s not at all cer- 
tain that a murder has been committed. Besides, we don^t 
know any one in the Strand. These men have always 
some sensational piece of news to announce. 

“ Frightful murder shouted one of the voices again. 
“ Frightful murder in Craven Street, Strand! The victim 
shot with a drawing-room pistol ! Escape of the assassin ! 
Tremendous excitement in the neighburhood!^^ 

“ That is worth a penny, I said. “ If it hadn’t been 
rather late I should have been in Craven Street myself this 
afternoon, and perhaps in that case the assassin would not 
have escaped. I might have captured him.^^ 

“I am very glad you did not,’’ said Florence. “He 
would probably have shot you as he shot the other man.” 

“ What, with a drawing-room pistol? I don’t think so. 
It would not have hurt me much if he had. A drawing- 
room pistol carries a bullet about as big as a pea.” 


THE CASE OF REUBEH MALACHI. 


41 


One of the servants who had been sent out for a 
Globe now returned, saying that he had been obliged 
to pay twopence for it. I found, to my horror — though I 
had never seen him but once — that the man assassinated 
was Eeuben Malachi. 


CHAPTER IV. 

I THOUGHT I was the only person at table who knew 
Reuben Malachi; but it seemed that Trevelyan was also 
acquainted with him. Florence had never heard of him; 
nor had either of her brothers. I, as already mentioned, 
had made his acquaintance through Mr. Brunton. But 
what could Trevelyan have had to do with him? Then it 
suddenly struck me that it was through Eeuben Malachi, 
who was a notorious money-lender, that he, perhaps, had 
raised the four thousand pounds which he was to settle on 
his future wife. 

You had not seen him lately ?^^ I suggested. 

This very afternoon about four oYlock. Or rather 
not so late ; for I took his check to the bank and got it 
cashed just before the hour of closing. It is very dread- 
ful,^^ he said; and he evidently thought so, for he was as 
white as ashes. 

‘^You don^t mean to say you had deahngs with him, 
exclaimed William Huntly, the clergyman. 

“ My transaction was a very simple one,^^ said Tre- 
velyan; and he was about to tell us all about it, when sud- 
denly the servant came in and said: 


42 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


There is a gentleman here wishes very particularly to 
see Mr. Trevelyan. Where am I to show him?^^ 

But there was no necessity for discussing this last point; 
for behind the footman could be seen the figure of the 
man who had j ust called. 

Tell him to come out here!^^ whispered the man. 

Trevelyan left the room, and immediately outside was 
confronted by the visitor, who simply observed that he had 
a warrant for his arrest, and that a cab was waiting out- 
side. 

“Let me wish my friends good-night, said Mr. Tre- 
velyan. 

The Huntlys and myself, seeing that something serious 
was taking place, had now gone forward. 

“ What are you arresting him for?’^ asked Tom Huntly. 

“ It^s about this murder, said the officer. 

“ How horrible!’^ I exclaimed. “But surely bail will 
be accepted 

“ The magistrate is not sitting, and I don^t think it 
would be accepted by the inspector at the station. 

“ Can we accompany him:^^ I asked. 

“ Certainly not. But you can come on by yourselves. 
We are going to Bow Street. 

Trevelyan was now hurried into a four-wheeled cab, in 
which were seated two other policemen; not, like the one 
who had arrested him, in plain clothes, but in full uni- 
form."" 

“We will do our best for you; and it will be easy 
enough to make it all clear,"" said Tom Huntly, as he 
shook his friend by the hand. 


THE CASE OF KEUBEN MALACHI. 


43 


You may count upon me, Trevelyan, if I can be of 
any aid,^^ I said. We shall be at the police office almost 
as soon as you. 

Florence, whom we now rejoined in the dining-room, was 
in a state of the utmost consternation. 

We know no more about it than you do,^^ I said to 
her. I had to see the unfortunate Malachi about that 
business matter. I will explain it to your brother as we go 
along; for we have promised to follow Trevelyan to the 
police office. As for Trevelyan himself, he told us just 
now that he saw Eeuben Malachi this afternoon, before the 
closing of the banks — before four o^clock, that is to say; 
and according to the newspaper report he was murdered 
between four and five.'^^ 

‘‘No one,’^ exclaimed Florence, “supposes for a mo- 
ment that Rupert Trevelyan could be guilty of such a 
crime. But donH let me keep you any longer. Come 
back and tell me, however late it may be, all you can find 
out; *and do make them release him. You and my broth- 
ers, I am sure, would be bail for any amount. 

“ Of course your brothers would, I answered, “ and so 
most readily would 

When we got to the police-station which — driving in a 
hansom, we did before the policemen and their unhappy 
prisoner, who were in a four-wheeler — the inspector told 
us that it was useless to mention the subject of bail. As 
we were speaking to him Trevelyan was brought in. He 
was asked his name — Rupert Trevelyan; his age — 28; his 
address — 14, Half Moon Street, Piccadilly; and his occu- 
pation — clerk in the Indian Civil Service. He was then 


44 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


taken away to a cell, while we were told to come again the 
next morning at ten o’clock, when the case would be 
brought before the magistrate. Then it would be for him 
to decide whether or not bail could be accepted. 


CHAPTER V. 

It was between ten and eleven o’clock when we got back 
to Florence’s. It was too. late for Tom to get to Aider- 
shot that night. The last train had already started. It 
was necessary, however, as he had no leave, that he should 
be at the camp the first thing in the morning. This he 
proposed to manage by taking the funeral train which 
leaves (or at that time left) Waterloo Station for Woking 
Cemetery at three in the morning; a train run specially for 
the dead, but which generally carried a few young officers, 
alive to the pleasures of the metropolis. * , 

But how could Tom get back to London in time to be at 
the police office by ten o’clock? For his consolation 1 told 
him that the magistrate only took his seat at ten o’clock, 
and that what are called the night cases would have to be 
disposed of before the important inquiry of the day was 
entered upon. Then the evidence would probably occupy 
some time; though what that evidence might be I had not 
the slightest idea. 

He in fact managed to be at Bow Street by eleven 
o’clock. He had seen the colonel of his regiment at an 
early parade, had obtained a day’s leave, and had started 
for London at nine. 

Meanwhile I had written to my solicitor, Mr. Wigram, 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


45 


at his private address, begging him to start for his office in 
Lincoln's Inn Fields on the receipt of my letter. He was 
there soon after nine o^clock next morning, and found me 
waiting for him. There was no time to instruct first-rate 
counsel, or I should have liked Trevelyan^s cause to have 
been placed in better hands than mine. The solicitor 
begged me, however, to go down to the court in my for- 
ensic robes, and I hurried to the Temple to put them on, 
while Mr. Wigram went to Bow Street, in order to have an 
interview with the unfortunate prisoner. Mr. Wigram 
and myself met at the court just as the clock was striking 
ten, and the simple line of conduct I had to pursue was 
quickly decided upon. 

The evidence against Trevelyan was of the kind known 
as circumstantial; and to those who knew him it carried 
no weight whatever. The chief witness against him was, to 
my astonishment — though there was nothing very wonder- 
ful in the fact — the young artist who had pawned the por- 
trait of Lord Beaconsfield the afternoon before at Mr. 
Brunton^s. His name was neither Smith, Brown, nor 
Jones. He was summoned as Eobert Marsden; and his 
evidence was to the effect that at half past three o^clock on 
the previous afternoon he had seen Mr. Trevelyan at the 
office of his employer, Mr. Malachi. He knew Mr. Tre^ 
velyan well, from having seen -him several times at the 
office, and from having sold him a number of water- color 
sketches. Mr. Trevelyan had come to the office on busi- 
ness. It was not his, Mr. Marsden ^s, business to sketch 
the portraits of notabilities, and to sell them to Mr. 
Malachi^s customers. But Mr. Malachi paid him a very 


46 


THE CASE OF REUBEK MALACHI. 


small salary, only ten shillings a week; and this he was 
obliged to supplement as best he could. He made portraits 
from memory, either during Mr. Malachi^s absence or after 
office hours; though having delicate eyes he could only 
work with a good light. He knew why Mr. Trevelyan 
had come to the office. He had been there on and ofl for 
the last month, trying to borrow money from Mr. Malachi. 
But he wanted a great deal; first six thousand, then five, 
until at last he came down to four. He knew the amount, 
because the accused had talked openly about it to Mr. 
Malachi in his presence. About the particulars of the 
loan, when it was to be repaid, or what security was 
offered, he knew nothing. 

The witness went on to depose that he had last seen Mr. 
Trevelyan at about a quarter to four on the previous after- 
noon, when, on leaving the office he got into a cab which 
was waiting for him at the door, and told the driver to go 
as fast as he could to the Strand branch of the London and 
Westminster Bank, near the Temple. Mr. Trevelyan and 
Mr. Malachi had been doing business together in the inner 
room, and just as Mr. Trevelyan opened the door to come 
out, he heard Mr. Malachi say to him: The check is 
payable to order, bat you had better give me a receipt and 
say what it is for.^^ Then Mr. Trevelyan wrote some- 
thing, after which he and Mr. Malachi came out together. 
Finally Mr. Trevelyan said to Mr. Malachi, I must be 
off,^^ and shook hands with him. 

Before that he had heard something like a dispute going 
on, but nothing that could be called a quarrel. 

The prosecution was directed by the late Mr. Malachi "s 


THE CASE OF REUBEN" MALACHI. 


47 


brothers, Mr. Ernest Vavasour and Mr. Begin aid Talbot, 
who, in abandoning the faith of their fathers, had at the 
same time changed their names — let us hope for the bet- 
ter. The counsel they had engaged, Mr. Sargent Valen- 
tine, seemed to think that the evidence up to this point 
did not tell very strongly against the prisoner; and this 
was certainly my own impression. Kobert Marsden de- 
clared, meanwhile, that he had stated all he knew in regard 
to Mr. Trevelyan ^s dealings with Mr. Malaclii on the 
previous afternoon — the afternoon of the murder. 

After the prisoner left,"'^ said Sergeant Valentine, 
you went out on some private business of your own. 
When did you return 

In about three quarters of an hour.''^ 

What did you then see?^^ 

I entered the house with my key, and when I got to 
the office saw a man with a small box in his hand. He 
started when he saw me, pushed by me and made for the 
street. 

You did not try to stop him?^^ 

‘‘ I was taken by surprise. Besides, he turned the gas 
out the moment he saw me, and then pushed against me 
and made his way to the door. 

You saw him quite plainly 

Yes; the light was full upon his face when I went 

in."^ 

You had never seen him before.^^^ 

Never."" 

You swear that?"" 

^‘Ido."" 


48 


THE CASE OF REUBEK MALACHL 


He resembled no one you had ever seen before?^^ 

He was like a good many other fair men; for I could 
see that he was fair. But he resembled no one that I 
knew, no one that I was at all acquainted with.^^ 

You know the prisoner at the bar, do you not? You 
have already said so. ^ 

Yes, I know Mr. Trevelyan. 

“ How did you become acquainted with him?^^ 

“ He happened to see a head I had just been drawing; a 
portrait of Signor Mario, whom I had heard the night be- 
fore at the opera. He thought it very like, and gave me a 
guinea for it.^^ 

Did he often buy pictures of your^^ 

Yes, on several occasions. Altogether, crayons and 
water-colors, he bought half a dozen. 

And he always paid you well for them?’^ 

He paid me what I asked for them; half a guinea for 
the small ones, and a guinea for the large ones. 

And you are quite sure that the last time you saw him 
was yesterday afternoon, at a little before four o’clock?^ ^ 

At a quarter to four. I saw him for the last time when 
he got into the cab. 

You didn^t see him again until he was placed in the 
dock this morning?^ ^ 

‘^ Idia not.^^ 

After the man whom you could not recognize had 
rushed out with the box in his hand, did you follow him?^^ 
I did. I ran out into the street; but it was very dark, 
my eyes are bad, and it was impossible for me to distin- 
guishhim.^^ 


THE CASE OF KEUBEN MALACHI. 


49 


Then you went back to the office? 

What did you do next?^^ 

I lighted the gas and went into the inner room, where 
I saw Mr. Malachi seated before his desk quite motionless. 
The gas in this room had been put out, and when I looked 
a little more closely I saw that Mr. Malachi was dead, and 
that the floor all round him was drenched with blood. 

What else did you see?^^ 

I did not wait to see any more. I rushed outside and 
knocked at the house of Mr. Judkins, an engraver, who 
lives next door."^^ 

Mr. Judkins was then called. 

Mr. Judkins deposed that at about half -past four or a 
quarter to five on the previous afternoon, Eobert Marsden 
knocked loudly at his door, and on his answering it in- 
formed him that his employer, Mr. Malachi, had been 
murdered. He told Marsden to run as fast as he could to 
the Charing Cross Hospital for a surgeon, and he also told 
his assistant to go to Scotland Yard and bring a policeman, 
or to stop the first one he met. He then went round to 
Mr. Malachi^s office. 

Sergeant Valentine asked him what first struck him 
when he entered the room. He noticed above all, he said, 
the position of the body, which was seated in a chair with 
the head resting on a writing-table or desk just in front. 
There was a pen between the dead man ^s fingers and his 
hand rested on a sheet of paper which bore the office ad- 
dress, and on which were written the words, Hear Sir, In 
consideration — Then there was a blot and nothing 


50 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


more. The trousers of the dead man were smeared with 
blood, and there was blood around him on the floor. He 
(witness) remained not more than half a minute in the 
room, and then went to the door to await the arrival of the 
surgeon. 

Mr. Roberts, house-surgeon at Charing Cross Hospital, 
described the position in which he found the body. There 
was no longer the least sign of life. He felt the pulse, and 
placed his hand to the heart, but life was quite extinct. 
The only wound was a very small one, a mere puncture at 
the back of the neck. But it was quite sufficient to cause 
death, which must have been instantaneous. He looked in 
vain for some weapon wifch which the wound might have 
been inflicted. But Inspector Robins from Scotland Yard 
had found in the outer room a drawing-room pistol which 
had just been discharged, and which was evidently the arm 
that had been employed. The caliber of the pistol was 
very small, and its report would scarcely be heard in the 
next house or in the street. On examining the wound a 
second time he had noticed that the short hairs round it 
were singed; a proof that the shot had been fired with the 
muzzle close to the unfortunate man^s neck. He had evi- 
dently been writing a letter at the time; and the assassin, 
leaning over him, as if to read its contents, had held the 
pistol to his neck just above the spine, where the smallest 
shot could not penetrate without destroying life. The pistol 
bore the mark Devisme, Paris. There was no other 
indication to show whence it came. 

Hitherto there was nothing to criminate Rupert Trevel- 
yan more than the clerk himself or any one who might have 


THE CASE OF KEUBEI^ MALACHI. 


51 


seen Keuben Malachi shortly before his death. The assas- 
sin, to my mind, was beyond doubt the man with the box 
in his hand who, on seeing Eobert Marsden, had suddenly 
turned out the gas and made his escape; and the apparent 
wish on the part of the prosecution to identify this man 
with Eupert Trevelyan had entirely broken down, since he 
was fair, whereas Trevelyan was dark. Moreover, the 
clerk, Eobert Marsden, knew the one quite well, whereas 
he had never before seen the other. 

A new witness was now called; Mr. Lumley, a clerk at 
the Strand branch of the London and Westminster Bank. 
Mr Lumley proved that Eupert Trevelyan had presented 
just as the bank was about, to close Mr. Malachi ^s check for 
four thousand pounds, and had received payment in the 
form of forty hundred-pound notes. The check was paya- 
ble to the order of Eupert Trevelyan, and the prisoner had 
indorsed it at the bank while the clerk was looking on. 

Inspector Eobins now deposed that he had gone to the 
prisoner's lodgings in Half Moon Street between seven and 
eight o^clock, on the evening of the murder, with a search- 
warrant and a warrant for arrest, and that on breaking 
open his desk he had found within it a few loose sovereigns 
and forty hundred-pound notes. The witness produced 
the notes, and the numbers were found to correspond with 
those which the clerk had copied from the books at the 
bank. The notes were then ordered to be impounded. On 
this evidence Sergeant Valentine demanded that the pris- 
oner be committed for trial. 

I, on my part, submitted that there was no evidence on 
which the prisoner could be committed. The unhappy 


52 


THE CASE OF REUBEH MALACHI. 


man who had been so foully murdered was^, I said, a money- 
lender and a dealer in precious stones. The accused had 
gone to him to effect, not a loan, but a sale. He had 
offered him several weeks before some very valuable dia- 
monds which he had inherited from his mother. He had 
at first proposed to leave them with Mr. Malachi as security 
for a loan of four thousand pounds. But the parties could 
not agree about terms, and it was at last arranged that Mr. 
Malachi, instead of lending the sum, which was required 
for a special purpose, should give it as purchase-money, 
the jewels thus becoming his absolute property. My client, 
though he had not published the state of his affairs to the 
whole world, had made no secret among his intimate friends 
of his being in want of funds in view of a particular object; 
and more than one of these friends had offered to advance 
him the money by way of loan. To obtain it, therefore, it 
would not have been necessary for him to commit a mur- 
der — and this, apart from the fact that he had always 
borne the highest character for probity and honor. But 
there was not the slightest evidence to connect the prisoner 
with this atrocious crime. He had seen Reuben Malachi at 
half -past three, and, according to the clerk, Robert Marsden 
— the only important witness in the case — had left the 
office at a quarter to four. At a few minutes to four he 
was at the bank. Before five he was at his lodgings; and 
he had walked there, calling, as could be proved, at a club 
and at a private house on his way. At his lodgings he had 
dressed for dinner and, going out a few minutes before 
seven, had taken a cab to Norfolk Street, Park Lane, 
where, an hour and a half or two hours later he was arrest- 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


53 


ed. Not only was there nothing to connect the prisoner 
with the murder, but the principal witness in the case had 
sworn that, suddenly returning to the office, he saw a 
stranger bearing no resemblance to the accused, but, on 
the contrary, strikingly different in appearance; for the 
unknown man, the criminal as I believed him to be, was 
fair, whereas Mr. Trevelyan was dark. That the unknown 
man had been engaged in some nefarious pursuit was shown 
by the alacrity with which on being seen he had turned the 
gas out. The accused had, it was true, received Mr. Mal- 
achi'^s check for a large sum, and had cashed it immediate- 
ly afterward. But. there was nothing strange in that. It 
would have been strange if, after receiving payment of the 
check in bank-notes, he had left the country or had even 
sought to conceal himself. He had gone back to his lodg- 
ings, however, where he had locked up the money in his 
desk, and had afterward dined with some intimate friends 
to whom the first thing he said, on entering the house, was 
that he had arranged matters at last, and that he had in 
his possession the sum which, for a particular purpose, he 
had so urgently required. 

Mr. Thomas Huntly, lieutenant in the 8fch Dragoon 
Guards, was the only witness. I had to call. He deposed 
that, to his knowledge, the accused had for some time past 
wanted four thousand pounds in view of a marriage settle- 
ment, and that he and his brother, the Kev. William Hunt- 
ly, had both offered, separately or conjointly, to lend him 
the sum. The accused had at last succeeded in raising it 
for himself, and the evening before he had of his own ac- 
cord mentioned this to the friends with whom he was din- 


54 


THE CASE OF KEUBEIST MALACHI. 


ing, the witness being himself among them. On the 
ground that there was no evidence against the prisoner 
I now applied for his discharge. 

Sergeant Valentine said that he must oppose the appli- 
cation. The murder had evidently been committed by the 
person Eobert Marsden had surprised in the office between 
four and five o’clock^ and who on being observed had 
turned the gas out, pushed the clerk out of the way, and 
made his escape. There was nothing as yet to prove the 
identity of this man with the prisoner in the dock. But the 
fact of his being described as fair, while the prisoner v^^as 
dark, amounted to very little. There were such things as 
fair wigs and fair whiskers. 

I felt very awkward when this observation was made, re- 
minding me, as it did, of the wig and beard which, with 
the most innocent object, I had myself put on. 

The evidence against the prisoner, continued Sergeant 
Valentine, was not, perhaps, crushing and conclusive, but 
it was sufficiently strong to render it very unadvisable, in 
the present state of the proceedings, to set him free. 

I was about to reply, when the magistrate asked Ser- 
geant Valentine if he should have any further evidence to 
offer. Sergeant Valentine replied promptly that he should, 
and thereupon the unhappy man was remanded for a week. 
I asked that he might be liberated on bail, saying that se- 
curity would be forthcoming to any amount. But the 
magistrate refused. 

The same afternoon an inquest was held, when a verdict 
of willful murder was returned against Kupert Trevelyan. 


THE CASE OF REUBEH MALACHI. 


55 


CHAPTER VI. 

Oh the news of Trevelyan arrest reaching Miss Mont- 
calm — the girl to whom he was to be married — she fell into 
despair. He had written to her at five on the previous 
afternoon telling her that he was in possession of the money 
required for the settlement. Next morning she received a 
letter from Florence preparing her for the shock she could 
not fail to receive on seeing it announced in the papers that 
he had been arrested^ and was about to be brought before 
the magistrate on a charge of murder. 

Immediately after the examination I called on Miss 
Montcalm with Florence, and found her quivering with 
excitement; more indignant, I thought, at the falseness of 
the accusation, than terrified at the thought of Treveiyan^s 
being convicted. 

‘‘I knew,'^ she said, ‘^that he was going to raise 
money on his mother^s diamonds. He has been trying to 
do so for the last three weeks, only the wretched man 
offered him such infamous terms. He would have lent 
him a good portion of the money at ruinous interest; but 
the jewels could never have been redeemed, and the amount 
offered was not sufficient for what was wanted. But, dear 
me, there was no secret about it! He told me, and I be- 
lieve you knew of it.^^ 

Yes,^^ said Florence, he mentioned it to me, and we 
all knew that he was ready to part with everything he had 
in the world in order to raise the money. ^ 


56 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


I didn^t know, Ethel/^ said Mr. Montcalm, who had 
just entered the room; ‘‘I had no idea he was so hard 
pressed.^’ 

Yes,’^ cried Miss Montcalm, “if it had not been for 
you this would never have happened 

“How do you mean? What would never have hap- 
pened?’^ exclaimed Mr. Montcalm, as though a direct 
charge of murder had been made against him. 

“Eupert would not have parted with the diamonds at 
all. He would have had no dealings with that wretched 
man.” 

“You mean, I suppose,” said Mr. Montcalm, “ the un- 
happy person who has been killed?” 

“ I do. The unhappy person, as you call him, however 
much he is to be pitied, was a bad man, and if you had not 
been so hard upon Eupert he would never have been driven 
to have dealings with him, and no pretext for this infam- 
ous charge would have existed. He ought to have married 
me without troubling himself about your consent. He is 
far too conscientious, and so am I.” 

“You show that now by what you are saying,” replied 
Mr. Montcalm. “ But I don’t want to vex you; I am 
heartily sorry for what has happened. Your name will be 
mixed up with it, and mine too. ” 

“ Much I care for that!” exclaimed the indignant girl. 

“ My dear Ethel,” said Florence, “don’t be excited, or 
rather don’t let your excitement get the better of your rea- 
son. None of us could possibly foresee this dreadful affair. 
There is no one to blame in the matter except the wretch 
who committed the murder, and who has for the present 


THE CASE OF REUBEK MALACHI. 


57 


escaped. Mr. Woodhouse has just returned from the 
police courts and the evidence shows quite clearly that a 
man who has not yet been recognized went to Eeuben 
Malachi's some time after Mr. Trevelyan, and being sur- 
prised turned the gas out and ran from the place. That 
this was tbe murderer can not be doubted. 

• That is my full conviction/^ I chimed in. 

Then why donT they liberate Rupert? Is he still in 
charge?^ ^ 

I am sorry to say he is. 

There is some conspiracy against him!^^ Then, after 
a momenta's pause. Miss Montcalm added: Can I see 
him?^^ 

I believe you can,^^ I replied. 

Where is he?^^ 

In the House of Detention at Olerkenwell. Tom 
Huntly has already gone to see if he can be of any use to 
him. If you will allow me to accompany you I can take 
you there. 

You are very good, I am sure,^^ she said. I will go 
at once; I will be ready in a moment. 

And without waiting tq ask her father^s views on the 
subject she went upstairs, and came back half a minute 
afterward with her hat on. She was dreadfully sad, and I 
could not help remarking that she looked wonderfully in- 
teresting. Her face was paler than ever, and her eyes 
more intensely black. When we got outside and ha^d taken 
a hansom she became comparatively cheerful. She was. 
glad, no doubt, at having something to do. Anything in 
such a case is better than absolute inactivity. 


58 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


Driving along the Bayswater Eoad we soon reached Ox- 
ford Street, and here demon boys, armed with early edi- 
tions of the evening papers, were shouting in every tone : 

The Craven Street Tragedy [It had lately become a 
‘‘tragedy/^] ‘^Examination of the supposed murderer! 
Bail refused 

Stop and buy one,” said Miss Montcalm. ‘‘I must 
see what has taken place. ” 

I can tell you everything precisely as it happened,” I 
replied. Mr. Trevelyan was seen at Eeuben Malachi^s 
between three and four, and received from him a check for 
four thousand pounds, as payment, no doubt, for the dia- 
monds. The clerk saw him go away, and he left on good 
terms with Malachi. This same clerk went out, and com- 
ing back, saw another man in the office in no way resem- 
bling Mr. Trevelyan. This man, as Florence has already 
told you, put the gas out and ran into the street, and im- 
mediately afterward Eeuben Malachi was found seated in a 
chair and leaning over his desk as if writing, but quite 
dead. When the surgeon and an inspector of police arrived 
it was found that Malachi had been shot in the nape of the 
neck with a drawing-room pistoL carrying a bullet the size 
of a pea. The pistol was picked up in an outer room, 
where it had apparently been dropped by the assassin as he 
was making his escape. 

And what about the diamonds that Eupert had sold.^^^ 
The man who made his escape — the assassin, that is to 
say- — ^had a box of some kind in his hand. But beyond the 
facts I have told you nothing of the least importance has 
been established. ” 


THE CASE OF EEUBEH MALACHI. 


59 


What a fortunate thing Eupert made no secret about 
the sale/^ 

I don^t suppose he told an}^ one except you and Flor- 
ence. But^ as you say^ he made no secret of the transac- 
tion. He received payment in a check payable to liis own 
order, and changed it immediately afterward at the bank. 
The police found the notes at Half Moon Street locked up 
in his desk. He had evidently put the money away for 
the purpose you know of. He needed it for no other. 

Ho, indeed, cried the young girl, with a suppressed 
sob. It is all through me!^^ 

DonT say that!^^ I exclaimed. Neither you, nor 
your father, nor, above all, Trevelyan himself, are in any 
way answerable for this terrible business. However, Tre- 
velyan is now remanded, and as no further evidence is like- 
ly to be brought forward than what has alreMy been 
produced, we must hope that in a week^s time he will be 
set free.^^ 

We had now got as far as Tottenham Court Eoad, where 
the diabolical news- venders were calling out reports of the 
inquest with a verdict of willful murder against Eupert 
Trevelyan. 

This was too much for Miss Montcalm. She fell back 
in the cab sobbing convulsively, so that I was alarmed for 
her bodily health, and was on the point of driving to the 
nearest doctor ^s, when, stopping my upraised arm, she as- 
sured me that there was no necessity for going anywhere 
except to the prison. I told her that the verdict of the 
coroner^s jury was a matter of very little importance. At 
most it could only mean that Mr. Trevelyan would be com- 


GO 


THE CASE OF REUBEIST MALA CHI. 


mitfced for trial. It was inconceivable that;, with such lit- 
tle evidence as could be brought against him — evidence 
which could scarcely even justify a faint presumption of 
his guilt on the part of persons wholly unacquainted 
with him — any verdict would be returned but one of 
acquittal. 

Turning to the left and driving through Bloomsbury and 
Eussell Square, and then along Woburn Place, we turned 
to the right, and soon, from an unfamiliar region, found 
ourselves in what to both of us was an unknown one. 
But the approach to a prison is not, like the approach to a 
palace, a matter of importance; and the gate of the House 
of Detention would not be an agreeable object,, even if the 
building were situated at the end of an avenue or in the 
middle of a park. 

I said that we wanted to see a prisoner named Eupert 
Trevelyan. The porter, in an unconcerned voice, asked, 
what he was in for. I felt some hesitation in giving a 
direct answer in the presence of Miss Montcalm, who, ob- 
serving my perplexity, answered promptly: 

IPs that murder case.^^ 

Oh, yes,^^ said the man; he is remanded. I remem- 
ber. His solicitor and another gentleman were here half 
an hour ago. They have only just gone.^’ 

The porter called to an attendant of some kind, and told 
him where to take us. We went along a passage, then 
turned to the left, and were taken upstairs, where, on the 
first floor, there was a long row of cells with gratings be- 
fore them., suggesting in rather too forcible a manner the 
cages of wild beasts. I found that no conversation could 


THE CASE OF REUBEH MALACHI. 


61 


be held with the prisoner, except in the presence of one of 
the jailers. 

We have come to see you, Trevelyan, I said, when 
the jailer had signified to him by some sharp taps on the 
rails that he was wanted. 

How good of you! and you, Ethel he added, seeing 
that Miss Montcalm was with me. 

I now walked away. But the duration of such visits is 
limited, and after a very tew minutes the jailer came 
toward me, and said that if I wanted to speak to the pris- 
oner I must be quick. When I returned Trevelyan again 
thanked me for coming, and for bringing Miss Montcalm 
with me. 

We shall all do our best, you may be quite sure,^^ I 

said. 

Of that I am convinced, if only from what has been 
done already. 

Can I do anything for you here?^^ I asked. Have 
you all you want? — all that can be granted, I mean.’^ 

‘^Huntly,^^ he said, has arranged about my having 
my meals sent in, and all that sort of thing. I believe he 
has left some money with the porter. 

Then, good-bye. We shall leave nothing untried to 
get you set free after the next hearing. 

Many thanks. Good-bye. 

I turned away, not caring to witness Miss Montcalm^s 
farewell. In a few seconds she followed me. The porter 
at the gate told me that he had already received money for 
the prisoner's meals from the other gentlemen. Wine he 
could not have, but beer was allowed. Could I, he added. 


62 


THE CASE OF EEUBEH MALACHI. 


tell him whether the gentleman drank Gainess’s stout or 
Basses pale ale? 

Instead of being shocked by the seeming triviality of the 
question, Miss Montcalm replied, like a sensible girl, that 
Mr. Trevelyan preferred pale ale. 


CHAPTER VIL 

After taking Miss Montcalm back to her father^s house 
in Porchester Terrace, where I left her, assuring her that 1 
should call from day to day to tell her what fresh evidence 
had been collected^ and what new phase the case might 
have assumed, I walked along the Bayswater Road toward 
the Marble Arch, asking myself what steps ought now to 
be taken. I had quite identified myself with the interests 
of Trevelyan. I knew that he was innocent, and if I had 
not been convinced of the fact myself, should have believed 
so from the conviction entertained by Florence and by both 
the Huntlys, who were as sure of their friend as they were 
of themselves. Besides, I was counsel in the case, though 
I had already told Mr. Wigram that I could not think of 
conducting it in chief, and that for leader he must secure 
the services of some one of greater experience and greater 
ability than myself. 

The evidence against Rupert Trevelyan did not seem to 
me by any means conclusive; but, unfortunately, there 
was no evidence whatever against any one else. The real 
assassin, the man with the box in his hand who had turned 
the gas out and, pushing against the clerk, had rushed by 
him into the street, had made his escape; and it was im- 


THE CASE OF REUBEK MALACHI. 


63 


possible even to publish a description of him in the Hue 
and Cry/^ Even if Trevelyan were acquitted^ as for want 
of evidence he probabl}^ would be, there would still, unless 
the true criminal could be found, be a slur on his char- 
acter which he would never be able to get rid of. 

Meanwhile I had not heard Trevelyan^s own account of 
his transaction with Eeuben Malachi. But he had evident- 
ly told the whole story to his solicitor; and if I drove to 
Lincoln's Inn I should get there j ust in' time to see Mr. 
Wigram before he left the office. I accordingly jumped 
into a hansom, and a quarter of an hour afterward was 
closeted with Mr. Wigram. 

“ His story,' ^ said the lawyer, is very precise and quite 
intelligible; but unfortunately it cati l>e iBade to tell 
against him. It proves too much.*"' 

How so?" I asked. 

^‘Listen, and you will see at once. Some weeks ago 
Mr. Trevelyan, anxious to raise the four thousand pounds 
which Mr. Montcalm wished as a minimum sum to be set- 
tled on his daughter before her marriage, called on Eeuben 
Malachi, to whom he had Been introduced by some Indian 
friend — probably one of Malachi' s money-borrowing 
clients. He wanted Malachi to advance him money on a 
quantity of jewels which had been left him by his mother, 
and which for sentimental reasons — filial reasons, if you 
prefer it — he did not wish to part with. Mr. Trevelyan 
valued the jewels at from five to six thousand pounds, and 
wished to borrow four thousand pounds on them at six per 
cent, interest. Malachi offered to lend two thousand five 
hundred at ten per cent, interest or to buy the jewels for 


64 


THE CASE OP REUBEN MALACHI. 


three thousand. Again and again Mr. Trevelyan went to 
him. But Malachi would not lend the four thousand, and 
it seemed to Mr. Trevelyan that even if he did it would be 
impossible for him to pay four hundred pounds out of his 
salary simply for interest on money lent. At last, seeing 
no other way out of the difficulty, Mr. Trevelyan offered 
to sell the jewels out and out, and wanted four thousand 
five hundred for them. After much bargaining Malachi 
proposed to giv6 five hundred pounds less than was now 
asked; and finally the jewels were sold for four thousand 
pounds. The money was paid, as we already know, in a 
check; and here comes the curious part. The clerk, 
Eobert Marsden, declared in evidence that just before Mr. 
Trevelyan left Eeuben Malachfs inner room he heard 
Malachi say to him: You had better give me a receipt, 
or words to that effect. This is quite correct. Mr. Tre- 
velyan, by his own account, was asked for a receipt, and 
gave one in some such form as this: Eeceived for a case of 
jewelry, sixteen pieces, four thousand pounds. Now, the 
odd thing is that this receipt can nowhere be found, neither 
on the person of the deceased, nor in his desk, nor in any 
of his drawers. 

It is not at all more strange, I said, than that the 
jowels can not be found. 

Any thief would have an interest in taking the jewels, 
but only one person would be interested in getting posses- 
sion of the receipt. 

“ But why should Trevelyan mention the receipt if it 
was he who afterward stole it— of course, this is only a 
supposition for the sake of argument. 


THE OASE OF REUBEIS’ MALAGHI. 


65 


We will say that he mentioned it to me because he 
wished me to know what really took place. But it would 
have been useless in any case to deny it, because the clerk 
has already said that he heard Malachi ask for a receipt. 

It. is certainly a great pity the receipt can not be 
found. I suppose a thorough search has been made?^^ 

Indeed it has; and if the police could have discovered 
the least scrap of paper bearing Mr. Trevelyan ^s name it 
would have been produced in court. Then there is an- 
other curious thing. Malachi used to enter in his call-book 
the name of every one who came to the office. The in- 
spector saw the book on the desk; and it will be shown in 
evidence that the last person who called at Malachi^s was 
Mr. Trevelyan. 

Yes/^ I said; but if a man called on Eeuben Malachi 
in .order to rob him and put him to death he would proba- 
bly not give his victim time to enter his name in a call- 
book. 

Probably not. It is to be regretted all the same that 
the last name in the book should be that of Mr. Trevelyan. 
Besides this, Reuben Malachi kept an appointment-book, 
from which it appears that he expected Mr. Trevelyan at 
half past three, the time at which he in fact called. There 
is no record of any later appointment for that afternoon. 

That,^^ I said, proves really nothing. 

It does not. But it would have been very satisfactory 
if there had been an entry in the book showing an appoint- 
ment with some one else for a later hour. Altogether, we 
may say that the evidence against Mr. Trevelyan is not 
strong. But unfortunately there is no evidence at all in 


66 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


connection with the other man; nothing but the word of 
the clerk, who is very well disposed toward Mr. Trevelyan, 
and had received many favors from him. 

‘‘ Do you think the prosecution will try to show that Mr. 
Trevelya-n and the unknown man were one and the same 
person 

Either that, or that the second man was not seen at 
all.^^ 

It is quite clear, in any case, that Trevelyan left the 
office at a quarter to four, and at four was at the bank. 

The case for the prosecution will be that after cashing 
the check Mr. Trevelyan went back to Malachi^s office. 
If, as young Marsden the clerk swears, the unknown man 
turned out the gas the moment he found himself observed, 
then Marsden could not have had a very good view of him; 
and if he entertained only a dim fancy that it might per- 
haps have been Trevelyan he would naturally give his 
friend the benefit of the doubt. 

And you imagine this will be Valentine’s line of argu- 
ment?” 

‘‘I think so. Mr. Trevelyan’s imputed motive would 
be to get back the diamonds, and they have in fact disap- 
peared. Who but Mr. Trevelyan was to know that Mala- 
chi had them?” 

‘‘There was no attempt on the part of Trevelyan to 
escape from London. ” 

“It would have been fatal even to try. His only chance 
lay in pursuing his ordinary course of life as if nothing had 
happened. If the clerk had not suddenly returned to the 
office, when it might have been supposed that he had left 


THE CASE OF KEUBEN MALACHI. 


67 


for the day, the man who killed Malachi, whoever he was, 
would not have been seen; and the murder would not 
have been discovered until ten o’clock the next morning, 
when the clerk, coming to the office at the usual hour, 
would have found his master dead. The supposition would 
then have been that some one had broken in and killed him 
during the night.” 

The important thing,” I replied, in order hot mere- 
ly to get Trevelyan acquitted — ^for of that even now I have 
hopes — but to exculpate him in the eyes of the world, is to 
find the second man, the man who really did the deed. 
The clerk says he was fair; and the weapon he used was a 
drawing-room pistol bought at Devisme’s, in Paris. It is 
no use trusting in such a matter as this to agents. I will 
go over to Paris myself. And, first of all, I had better see 
young Marsden. Where does he live?” 

‘^It will also be desirable,” said the solicitor, to get 
from Mr. Trevelyan a list of the articles contained in the 
jewel box. That ought to be sent round without delay to 
all the pawnbrokers in London, though it is not very likely 
that the murderer would have tried to dispose of the 
jewelry the same night; and he ^vould take very good care 
not to do so now. ” 

I was prevented by private business of my own from go- 
ing to Paris for the next two days. I had received a 
couple of briefs just at a time when I would much rather 
not have had them. 

Meanwhile, after leaving Mr. Wigram’s office I went 
straight to Florence’s, where I found that Mr. Brownlow 


08 THE CASE OF EEUBEIST MALACHI. 

had just been calling. He had, indeed, only just gone 
away. He had come to ask whether, under the circum- 
stances, Miss Huntly thought Miss Montcalm would care 
to see him. Florence had replied that she thought it most 
improbable. But he had gone to leave cards at Porcbes- 
ter Terrace all the same, as if under the impression that 
this mark of sympathy would be becoming on his 
part. 

Supposing,^’ I said to Florence, ‘‘ the very worst hap- 
pened to Trevelyan, or, say, that he was acquitted for lack 
of evidence, but with the accusation of murder still resting 
upon him, do you think Mr. Brownlow would renew his 
offerr^^ 

“ Ethel, replied Florence, would care very little what 
accusation was made against Eupert if he were once set 
free. She would marry him at once, in spite of every- 
thmg. Mr. Brownlow would, under no circumstances, 
have the least chance. Besides, he has given up all pre- 
tensions in that quarter, and I can^t understand why he 
should want to show himself at the Montcalms, at all, or 
to leave cards for them. I am sure they would rather not 
have them, especially Ethel. 

I thought he was most anxious to marry her.'"’ 

He was. But he was told the very day we met them 
at lunch that she would have no dowry. Mr. Brownlow 
thought that a lot of money left by the mother was settled 
on Ethel. As soon as he learnecL the contrary he cooled. 
But Ethel would never have married him under any cir- 
cumstances. She is devotedly attached to Eupert. 

So Brownlow is a fortune-hunter, is he?"^ 


THE CASE OF REUBEIsr MALACHL 6^ 

‘‘ Well, it looks like it. But he is said, all the same, to 
be very rich.'’^ 

“ Says it himseltV^ I replied. 

You don^t believe he isr^^ 

‘‘I know nothing about him, I replied. 1 could not 
help thinking, however, of the proof he had given of an. 
impecuniosity which might or might not be, as Mr. Brun- 
ton supposed, only momentary. 

The day afterward I started by the evening train for 
Paris, and the next morning called at M. Devisme^s on the 
Boulevard des Italiens to ask him whether he had latelj 
sold to any Englishman a drawing-room pistol of very 
small caliber. The gunsmith replied that there was very 
little demand in England for such articles. It appeared,, 
however, that during the last few months he had sold 
several pistolets salon to foreigners, who, he believed, 
were either Englishmen or Germans. I showed him a 
photograph of Trevelyan, which was handed round the 
shop without being recognized as that of any recent cus~ 
tomer. Trevelyan had passed through Paris on his waj 
back from India only a month before, so that it was likely 
enough that, if he had had dealings with the firm his feat-- 
ures would have been remembered. 

Of course,^ ^ said M. Devisme, the pistol might have* 
been bouglft second-hand.-’^ 

The only point this visit had settled was that no one re- 
sembling Kupert Trevelyan could be shown by the prosecu- 
tion to have bought at the maker ^s the pistol with which 
Malachi had been shot. 

Just as I was leaving the shop I met coming into 


70 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


it, dressed in plain clothes. Inspector Eobins, who had 
given evidence at the examination. I shook hands with 
him. 

You are here on the same business as myself, I said, 

so I had better leave you.^^ 

course, he replied, must find out all lean 
^bout this matter. 

I obtained from the commissionaire at the hotel where I 
had put up the address of several shops where second-hand 
pistols were sold. But here nothing seemed to be known 
about any of the customers, and I returned to London the 
same evening. 

The next day I called on Mr. Wigram to tell him that 
the prosecution would be able to prove nothing against our 
client in regard to the purchase of the pistol, and, more- 
over, that I had been unable to obtain specific information 
as to any such weapon having been sold by the makers to 
an Englishman. I then called on Miss Montcalm, and as 
this was one of the days on which prisoners at the House of 
Detention could be seen by their friends, 1 took her there a 
second time. It was indeed her third visit, for she had 
been there once without me. 

When I told Trevelyan about my journey to Paris, he 
expressed his satisfaction at the result of my inquiry. Ap- 
pearances, he said, were already so much against him that 
it was satisfactory to hear of the absence of any further ev- 
idence, however slight. He was perfectly composed, and 
told Miss Montcalm, who also showed much self-command, 
that when his innocence had been fully established he 
should console himself by reflecting that the humiliation to 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


71 


which he had been subjected had brought him such strik- 
ing proofs of her affection. 

As if they were necessary she said. 

The only witnesses we could produce at the second exam- 
ination were the porter of the Union Club in Trafalgar 
Square, where Trevelyan had called at a quarter-past four 
on the day of the murder; the servant of a house in Arl- 
ington Street, Piccadilly, where he had left a card some tea 
minutes later; and the landlady of the house in Half Moon 
Street, where he lodged, who deposed that on coming home 
that afternoon he ordered tea, and that it was served to 
him, as usual when he was at home, precisely at five. The 
bank clerk called by the prosecution had already deposed 
to Trevelyan^s having cashed the check just as the bank 
was closing, only a minute or two before four o^clock, so 
that, on the whole, the prisoner's itinerary from the Strand 
to Half Moon Street was clearly enough made out. If he 
had visited the Union Club at precisely a quarter-past four 
(and this point was well established, because Trevelyan had 
promised to -look in at that, time, and had called the por- 
ter^s attention to the fact that the friend whom he had ex- 
pected to meet had not arrived), he might easily have been 
back in Craven Street at half-past four— the hour at which 
the clerk surprised the unknown man who had evidently 
committed the murder. But if, as the servant of the house 
in Arlington Street declared, he called there at half-past 
four, he could not have been at Craven Street at the time 
when Malachi^s clerk, Eobert Marsden, arrived there. 

Unfortunately the servant, on being cross-examined, 
could not be positively certain within ten minutes or a 


72 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 

quarter of an hour as to the time of Mr. Trevelyan^s visit. 
He remembered his calling and leaving a card for Mr. 
Robertson, his master, and his impression was that it was 
about half past four' o^clock. But it was perhaps a little 
earlier, perhaps a little later. 

There was nothing to prove, then, that the prisoner had 
not taken a cab in Craven Street at half past four and 
driven straight to Arlington Street, which he would have 
reached in a few minutes. No cabman, however, was 
brought forward to prove that he had made any such 
drive; though it was to be assumed that the prosecution 
would have produced him could he have been found. 

The evidence as to the prisoner's having been at home a 
little before five amounted to very little; and it was to be 
supposed that a man bent on proving an alzdi would make 
a point of establishing his presence at certain places just as 
the prisoner had done. If, on the other*hand, he had made 
these visits with such a view, it seemed odd that he should 
not have called the attention of the servant in Arlington 
Street to the precise time of his visit. The fact of his not 
having done so might be interpreted either in his favor, as 
showing carelessness on the subject, or against him, as 
showing that the exact time would not tell in his favor. 

The evidence of the landlady at Half Moon Street was 
worth nothing; for, guilty or innocent, the prisoner might 
in either case have been at Half Moon Street at a little be- 
fore five. 

After hearing the additional testimony, the magistrate, 
not caring to incur the responsibility of setting free a pris- 
oner against whom it was impossible, under the circum- 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


73 


stances, not to entertain the gravest suspicions, committed 
him for trial. I again tendered bail, and my application 
was again refused. 

One immediate effect of the committal was to cause a 
breach between Ethel Montcalm and her father. Mr. 
Montcalm was not pleased with his daughter's solicitude 
for a man who, besides being accused of murder, had, by 
his own admission, resorted to desperate expedients for 
raising money. 

His daughter ought, he maintained, to give him up, at 
least until his innocence had been proclaimed by a jury of 
his fellow-countrymen. Ethel, however, was more devoted 
to him than ever, and if he had been liberated on bail she 
would certainly have done her best to marry him forthwith, 
without waiting for the trial. The fact of being his wife 
would then have given her the right to take in him the in- 
terest which she was now reproached with, seeing that she 
had hitherto been only engaged to him on certain con- 
ditions not yet fulfilled. The day after the committal such 
a dispute took place between Ethel and her father that she 
left the house and sought hospitality from Florence, who 
most willingly gave it to her. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The case having now assumed a terribly serious aspect, 
I called on Mr. Wigram to ask him whom he proposed to 
retain as leader. Mr. Wigram replied that Larkins was 
evidently the man; and it was arranged in the course of 
the day that Mr. Larkins, Q. C. , should lead the case, with 


74 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


myself and a friend of Mr. Larkins’s, who was in the habit 
of working with him — Mr. Turnbull — as juniors. I half 
mistrusted myself as counsel, and Mr. Wigram, I think, 
mistrusted me altogether, on account of the interest I took 
in the case. I knew, however, that I could be useful in 
getting up such evidence as it might yet be possible to ob- 
tain. 

To those who knew Trevelyan^s circumstances, as Flor- 
ence and her brothers knew them, there was absolutely no 
motive for his committing a robbery; while his character ren- 
dered it wholly impossible that he should have been guilty of 
either of the crimes charged against him. I could not 
think without horror of the terrible fate which threatened 
him in case the tru^ murderer should not be discovered; 
and my excited state, though it might help me in the pursuit 
of inquiries likely to throw some light on the mystery, was 
not, I myself felt, at all favorable to the calmness neces- 
sary under all conditions on the part of an advocate. 

There seemed to be no possibility of identifying the man 
whom Marsden had seen for a moment under the gaslight; 
and it was equally difficult to find a clew to the missing 
jewels unless, indeed, the assassin had committed the folly 
of parting with them, or with a portion of them, immedi- 
ately after the murder. 

Mr. Willing had put up bills on every hoarding in Lon- 
don, promising a reward of a thousand pounds for such in- 
formation as might lead to the discovery of any one of the 
stolen articles, with another thousand for information lead- 
ing to the apprehension of the thief. A copy of this bill 
was sent to every pawnbroker in London, and it was pub- 


THE CASE OF REUBEK MALACHI. 


75 . 


lished daily as an advertisement in the morning and even- 
ing papers. 

I, of course^ went to see Mr. Brunton on the subject, but 
he could give me no hope of tracing the jewels. It was 
just possible that some professional burglar had made his 
way into Reuben Malachi^s house with a false key, and see- 
ing Malachi with the jewels before him, had approached 
him- stealthily, shot him in the back of the neck, and 
rushed out immediately afterward with the jewel box in 
his hand. But in that case the man would not have 
pawned any of the jewels in their setting. He would have 
removed the stones and dealt with them separately, reserv- 
ing the gold for melting. Mr. Brunton did not, however^ 
think that a professional criminal would have been so nerv- 
ous over the business as to leave the pistol behind him, or 
to drop it in the excitement of a sudden flight. 

Between the hour of the murder and the publication of 
the news in the last editions of the evening papers diamond 
rings and diamond brooches had no doubt been pawned at 
a dozen pawnbrokers; and it was of rings, brooches, neck- 
laces, and a tiara that the missing jewels consisted. 

Why, there was a diamond ring pawned here,^^ Mr. 
Brunton suddenly exclaimed, just about the time when 
you were watching the business in your wig and specta- 
cles.’" 

‘‘ Yes, and I knew the man that pawned it, though I 
didn"t think it fair to tell you who he was."" 

Well, I dare say there were forty or fifty transactions 
of the same kind going on at other pawnbrokers" at tha 
same time."" 


76 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


Would it be of any use Communicating with the re- 
ceivers of stolen goods? 

The police are doing that/^ 

But they donT always do their work well/^ 

They do it more systematically than we could. 

Though not, of course, with so much zeal. There would 
have been no danger whatever, I added, in pawning 
the jewels one by one if it had been done immediately after 
the murder; that is to say, between half past four or five 
and half -past seven, when the late editions of the evening 
papers were published. 

We close at seven. 

‘‘ Well, between a quarter to five and seven. None of 
the articles could have been pawned earlier than half-past 
four in the afternoon, and none would have been pawned 
after that evening. Therefore, so far as the pawnbrokers 
are concerned, our inquiry is limited to what they took in 
between the hours of half-past four and seven. It would 
be quite worth while to visit every pawnshop in London 
and collect particulars about all diamond ornaments 
pledged during that brief period. There is a thousand 
pounds to be earned; though I know that considering the 
deep interest taken in the case by all the Huntly family 
you need no such incentive. 

I will certainly do my best, and, being in the trade, it 
will be easier work for me than for you or Captain Huntly. 

I will go myself this very day to all the pawnbrokers with- 
in reach. I will take one half, and Johnson, my foreman, 
who is as well known as I am, will take the other. But 
there is no reckoning with the artfulness of thieves. If 


THE CASE OF KEUBEK MALACHI. 


77 


any of the jewels were pawned at all it might have been 
either at the very corner of the street where the crime was 
committed, or at five miles^ distance. 'But the probability 
is that, if pledged at all, the things would be taken to one 
of the large shops in the best part of London where plenty 
of business is done in jewelry, and no particular notice 
would be attracted. 

In the evening Mr. Brunton called upon me, saying that 
he and his foreman had been to every pawnbroker's from 
Temple Bar to Hyde Park Corner, and from the Strand to 
Oxford Street, and that he had brought with him six dia- 
mond rings and four diamond brooches — the only articles 
he had met with which could possibly belong to the 
missing collection. Together with the articles themselves, 
Mr. Brunton had procured from his brothers in trade cop- 
ies of the tickets issued in connection with them. This 
seemed to me entirely superfluous, for it was not likely that 
a man who had obtained possession of jewelry by means of 
murder and robbery would afterwards pawn it under his 
real name. But everything that a man does is somehow 
characteristic of him; and even in studiously false indica- 
tions true ones may sometimes be read. 

I wrote to Mr. Wigram, telling him that I would call 
upon him in the morning, and I was at his office before ten 
with the various articles of jewelry. Mr. Wigram hastened 
with them to Newgate, whither Trevelyan since his com- 
mittal for trial had been removed. As the prisoner's 
solicitor Mr. Wigram could be admitted at any time; and 
Trevelyan, who since his committal had become much de- 
pressed, seemed visited by a gleam of hope when he heard 


78 


THE CASE OF REUBEH MALACHI. 


on what business the solicitor had come. Of the brooches 
he could make nothing, nor could he recognize any of the 
rings, though he selected three about which he begged Mr. 
Wigram to make further inquiries. One of these rings had 
been pledged by that perpetual visitor to the pawnshop, Mr. 
John Smith. The address, 100 Fleet Street,'’^ gave as 
little hope of identification as the name. 

The second ring had been pawned by a self-styled Cecil 
Plantagenet, 1 Grosvenor Square — a description quite as 
unpromising as the previous one. The third was the one I 
myself had seen pawned in the false, but not transparently 
false, name of Huntingdon. 

‘‘ I think I could get at the owner of this one,^^ I said^ 
when Mr. Wigram on his return to the office told me what 
had been done. As regards the two others the only thing 
will be to advertise and trust to the owners having the de- 
cency to make themselves known. Cecil Plantagenet, 
being evidently a humorist, is probably a kind-hearfced man; 
but I have no hopes of John Smith. 

A humorist,’^ replied Mr. Wigram, is one who finds 
pleasure in the ludicrous imperfections of his fellow-men. 
He is happiest when they are most ridiculous. Let us 
trust, however, that ‘Cecil Plantagenet^ will justify the 
good opinion you have formed of him. 

I scarcely knew how to approach Mr. Brownlow, or 
rather how Mr. Brunton was to approach him; for it was 
not necessary to cause him the mortification of letting him 
know that he had been seen by me in the act of pawning 
his ring.* Nor did there seem to be any use in going to Mr. 
Brownlow at all; for, apart from other reasons, he had, as 


THE CASE OF EEUBEX MALACHL 


79 


I calculated, performed his act of hypothecation at Mr. 
Brunton^s before the murder had been committed. Mr. 
Wigram, however, suggested that if we were to act at all we 
had better do so systematically. So, after telling the 
solicitor in confidence who the self-styled Mr. Huntingdon 
really was, I went to Mr. Brunton, enlightened him in like 
manner, and then asked him to call at Long’s Hotel and 
inquire of Mr. Browulow whether the ring which he had 
pawned on October 20th, 1868, had belonged to him for 
any length of time, or whether he had acquired it quite re- 
cently, and if so under what circumstances. He was of 
course to do all this as delicately as possible. 

The advertisements to John Smith of Fleet Street, and 
Cecil Plantagenet of Grosvenor Square, were drawn up and 
sent to the papers; and I took Mr. Brunton with me in a 
cab toward Bond Street, intending to drop him, and then 
go on to Florence’s. 

Leaving Mr. Brunton to make his inquiries at the hotel 
I drove to Norfolk Street. But as I was getting out of the 
hansom I saw him close behind in another hansom, which 
had apparently been following me. He said he had 
something important to tell me, and that he driven 
after me as rapidly as possible for that purpose. Having 
sent the cabs away I walked with Mr. Brunton down Park 
Lane toward Piccadilly; and what he told me was indeed 
remarkable. He had not found Mr. Browulow at the hotel; 
but recognizing the porter as an old friend, and wishing to 
turn his visit to some account, he had asked whether Mr. 
Brownlow had chambers in Lincoln’s Inn, where he had 
given his address when effecting his petty mortgage, and if 


80 THE CASE OF KEUBEN MALACHI. 

80, whether he was staying there on October 20th. The 
porter referred to the books and said that the only address 
Mr. Brownlow had given was Beauchamp Manor, Hunting- 
donshire, and that as regarded October 20th he was not 
that day in England. He went away in the morning, said 
the porter, to Paris, and did not come back until two days 
afterward. 

He was not in Paris, I said to Mr. Brunton, ‘‘ on Oc- 
tober 20th, though he might have started for France at 
night by the mail train. At half past four on the after- 
noon of that day he was at your shop in Coventry Street, 
I saw him and made a mental note of it at the time; 
though not wishing to split upon him — and also perhaps 
because I did not care to say how I came to know it — I 
never mentioned the matter to a soul. 

He told them at the hotel that he had to catch the 
train from Charing Cross at seven in the morning, and he 
drove straight to the station with a portmanteau and a car- 
pet bag. If, then, he remained in London that day, he 
wished, for some reason, to conceal the fact;^^ 

Are you going back to the hotel 
Yes, at a little after seven. He has ordered dinner at 
half past.^^ 

I was anxious to hear the result of Mr. Brunton^s new 
inquiry, and told him that I would call upon him early the 
next morning, probably about nine o^clock. It really mat- 
tered very little what Mr. Brownlow had told the hotel peo- 
ple about his movements. It might suddenly have oc- 
curred to him on the way to the station that he had forgot- 
ten some business which had to be attended to in London 


THE CASE OF KEUBEIST MALACHI. 


81 


that very day; and, having transacted it, lie might not 
have thought it necessary to go back to the hotel to take 
his rooms on for another day when he had already paid his 
bill. 

I dined that evening at Florence's, and did my best to 
persuade her and above all her friend Ethel Montcalm that 
the new evidence we were trying to collect might have an 
important effect on the issue of the trial. 

At eight o^clock the next morning the postman^s rap at 
the outer door of my chambers announced the arrival of a 
letter. 

It proved to be from Mr. Brunton. He reminded 
me that I was to call upon him at nine in the morning, 
and told me that he had something important to communi- 
cate. At nine o^clock I was in Coventry Street; and Mr. 
Brunton told me forthwith that Mr. Brownlow was a very 
queer customer, not by any means straight in his dealings, 
and, moreover, offensively rude. Mr. Brunton had waited 
for him at the entrance to the hotel, and on his arrival, 
about ten minutes past seven, had said to him point-blank, 
in presence of the porter: I believe I had the honor of 
transacting business with you on the 20th of last month ' ^ 
— it was now the beginning of November. Mr. Brownlow 
started at the mention of the date, though he replied in a 
haughty manner that he thought not, since on October 20th 
he happened to be in Paris. 

Think again, sir,^^ Mr. Brunton had said to him. 

Mr. Brownlow replied that his memory could not deceive 
him, and turning to the porter, asked what day it was he 
went to Paris, 


S2 THE CASE OF REUBEH MALACHI. 

The 20th, sir, at seven in the morning,^^ was the por- 
ter’s answer. 

There you see,^’ said Mr. Brownlow. But what was 
it you wanted to speak to me about?” 

You are Mr. Brownlow, are you not, of the firm of 
Brownlow, Short & Wood, the shipping agents in Grace- 
church Street?” 

Mr. Brunton had said this simply to throw Mr. Brown- 
low off the scent. 

Never heard of them till now, I am Mr. Brownlow of 
Beauchamp Manor, in Huntingdonshire; and I am con- 
nected with no one in the city but Brownlow the East 
India merchant in Leadenhall Street, who happens to be 
my uncle.” 

‘^1 told him,” said Mr. Brunton, ^‘that I must have 
made a mistake; though,” he added to me, I had made 
no mistake about one thing. I had found out that he had 
some reason for pretending to be in Paris on a day when 
both you and I know very well that he was in London.” 

But you found out nothing about the ring?” 

I took care not to mention it. But I have discovered 
something about it that ought to prove, one way or the 
other, whether it really forms part of the missing jewels. ” 

What is that?” 

‘‘ I examined it very carefully this morning with a 
microscope, and saw by a crack, imperceptible to the naked 
eye, that it opened. You see how thick the setting is?” 
Mr. Brunton at the same time displayed the ring. 

Yes, I noticed that at the time it was left.” 

Well, look here.” 


THE CASE OF EEUBEH MALACHI. 


83 


Mr. Brunton touched a spring on the inner side of the 
ring, when a little lid of gold flew open, disclosing beneath 
it, in the most solid part of the setting, a hollow place, at 
the bottom of which was inscribed in microscopic letters, 
formed with minute diamonds, the Greek letters AEI. 

‘‘ What does that mean?^^ said Mr. Brunton. 

It apparently means that the ring has a history at- 
tached to it. The Greek word formed by these letters sig- 
nifies ^ always,'’ or ‘ forever.^ Do you know what next we 
shall find out?'^ I added. ‘‘That this fellow Brownlow 
has bolted. 

“ I think not,^^ said Mr. Brunton. “ He had not bolt- 
ed at half -past eight this morning; and a quarter of an 
hour afterward I had a detective upon him.^^ 

“ But the detective could not arrest him without a war- 
rant.^'’ 

“ He would somehow stop him. He would arrest him 
and take the consequences. The first policemen he met 
with would be ready to assist him.^^ 

“ One detective will not be enough. 

“We will get as many more as maybe necessary. I 
have explained to the first that if it leads to anything he 
will get his full share of the reward. 

“ The worst that could happen,^’ I said, “ would be an 
action for false imprisonment, which is only an affair of 
damages. I will go to Mr. Wigram^s,^^ I continued, 
“ and ask him to take the ring to Mr. Trevelyan. I am 
afraid, however, that if he had been able to recognize it he 
would have looked for the spring himself. Meanwhile it 
will be rather awkward for Brownlow.'’'’ 


84 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHL 


Not unless he goes to a railway station. Even then 
the detectives would follow him without being perceived. 
They know all the guards. If they found him attempting 
to leave the country they would, of course, arrest him; and 
in that case they would probably not be doing so without 
cause. But 1 said nothing to alarm him. Before he has 
had time to finish his breakfast — for these gentlemen do 
not breakfast very early — we shall know something about 
the ring. 

Unfortunately Trevelyan was unable to identify it. He 
did not know that either his father or his mother had ever 
possessed a ring with the word aei inscribed upon or 
within it in a secret chamber. The ring resembled, as he 
had before observed, one that had been in his niother^s pos- 
session; and a very curious thing, which rendered it proba- 
ble that it might have belonged either to his father or his 
mother, was that the letters composing the word, A.E.I., 
were the initial letters of her Christian names — Adelaide 
Ethel Isabella. But how could Brownlow be arrested and 
charged with robbery and murder — for one accusation in- 
volved the other — because he had in his possession a ring 
marked with an inscription which was complete in itself, 
and which might be adopted by any one? 

As I had promised in the most absolute manner to tell 
Miss Montcalm everything, however slight, that might 
tend to throw light on the true history of the crime, I went 
to Norfolk Street in the course of the morning to tell her 
of the discovery made in connection with Mr. Brownlow^s 
mortgaged ring. Before doing so I called once more at 
Mr. Brunton^s to tell him that though Mr. Trevelyan had 


THE CASE OF REUBEH MALACHI. 


85 


not been able to identify the ring, he had given to the 
motto within it an interpretation which seemed to mark it 
as having been the property of his mother. Or it might, I 
thought, have been given by his father to his mother as a 
token of constancy. 

When I told Miss Montcalm of our discovery she jumped 
forthwith, as might have been expected, at the conclusion 
that Brownlow was the robber and murderer of Reuben 
Malachi ; the would-be murderer, therefore, of her beloved 
Rupert. She wanted me to have him arrested at once, 
and thrown into prison on a charge which, for the present, 
there was no evidence to support; and I evidently fell 
greatly in her opinion when I told her that this could not 
be done. I explained to her, however, that Mr. Wigram 
was being kept fully informed of every, even the slightest, 
fact that could be brought against Brownlow, that Brown- 
low was being carefully watched, and that at the earliest 
possible moment the solicitor would be prepared to strike. 

Meanwhile Mr. Wigram had had another interview with 
Trevelyan, from whom he wished to obtain as much in- 
formation as possible with reference to Brownlow ^s antece- 
dents and . his relations, if any, with Reuben Malachi. It 
appeared that Trevelyan had once been intimate with 
Brownlow, who, indeed, had first introduced him to Miss 
Montcalm — with the familiar result of being cut out by his 
friend; and on one occasion, when Brownlow held a bill 
for two thousand pounds accepted by his uncle, a rich mer- 
chant, he had enabled him to get it discounted by Reuben 
Malachi. Brownlow claimed to have a full share in the 
business of Brownlow & Co., the East India merchants; 


86 


THE CASE OF KEUBEJST MALACHI. 


and the acceptance for two thousand pounds represented^ as: 
Mr. Trevelyan believed, his half-year^s portion of the profits. 

Mr. Wigram thought it strange that with such an excel- 
lent signature as that of Brownlow & Co. Mr. Brownlow 
should not have got the bill discounted in the ordinary 
way at his bank. But Mr. Brownlow had himself ac- 
counted for his not doing so on the ground that his ac- 
count was too low to justify him in applying for such ac- 
commodation as would have been willingly granted to him 
had he been in the habit of keeping a fair balance. The^ 
incident of the bill, and of Mr. Brownlow^s being obliged 
to get it discounted at a usurer^s, proved that he was occa- 
sionally short of money; but only as every man is sure to 
be who outruns his income, whatever its amount. 

Mr. Wigram resolved meanwhile to see the manager of 
the establishment where Mr. Malachi had banked; and he 
called there before going back to his office. The manager 
knew nothing of any bill accepted by Brownlow & Co., and 
certainly no such bill had been discounted by them or 
placed in their hands for presentation on the part of Mr. 
Malachi. The bill, then, must still be among Eeubeii 
Malachi^s papers; unless, indeed, Brownlow & Co. had on 
maturity taken it up. 

It was now necessary to make a visit to Messrs. Brown- 
low & Co., in Leadenhall Street. The head of the firm, 
Mr. Josiah Brownlow, received Mr. Wigram in rather an 
off-hand manner; and when the solicitor mentioned that 
he had come about an acceptance of theirs, he asked him 
sarcastically whether it was overdue, or, if not, how it 
could concern him as a solicitor. 


THE CASE OE REUBEN MALACHI. 


87 


‘‘It is about a bill/^ said Mr. Wrgram, “ drawn upon 
you by your nephew, Mr. Mark Brownlow. 

“ If he draws any bills upon me I shall not accept them, 
that is all. I told him so a year ago. I suppose he is try- 
ing to borrow money from you. If so you will have to 
lend it to him on his own security — certainly not on mine. 
That is all I have to say to you; and now good-morning.’^ 
Mr. Wigram had learned far more than he expected; 
for if the head of the firm had refused a year before to 
allow his nephew to draw upon him, the acceptance for the 
bill which Mark Brownlow had recently got discounted at 
Eeuben Malachi’s was clearly a forgery. 

The bill would, in the ordinary course of things, be 
among Reuben Malachi’s papers, and the next point was to 
get an order for their examination. The order was 
promptly obtained; and the result of a careful search, 
made under the inspection of an officer of the court, was 
that the document sought for could not be found. 

But although Mr. Wigram had not been able to dis- 
oover any signs of Mark Brownlow’s draft upon Brownlow 
& Oo., he had noticed traces of another kind. In the 
blood which had formed a pool round Malachi’s chair he 
had observed footprints so distinct that the boots worn on 
the occasion by the murderer ought certainly to fit them. 


CHAPTER IX. 

When I told Miss Montcalm that Mr. Brownlow had 
been well acquainted with Reuben Malachi she welcomed 
the fact as a new reason for regarding him as the mur- 


88 THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 

derer. When I added that Reuben Malachi had discounted 
a bill for him she became still more certain that it was he* 
who had done the deed; and when .she heard that the bill 
bore the acceptance of Brownlow & Co., and that Mark 
Brownlow had represented himself as possessing a share in 
the business, she wished to call for a policeman, and send 
him at once to take the felon in charge. 

It seemed to me that there was now almost enough evi- 
dence against him to justify such a step. But when the 
next morning I saw Mr. Wigram, and urged him to take 
out a warrant for Mark Brownlow’s apprehension, he de- 
clared that there was no hurry since Brownlow was so care- 
fully watched that he could not possibly get away. Be- 
sides, although we had excellent reasons for suspecting 
him, what proofs had we against him? He pretended to 
have been in Paris when he was really in London. He 
had pawned a ring which might be, and probably was, one 
of the jewels that had been stolen from Reuben Malachi; 
but it could not be identified. He had got discounted by 
Reuben Malachi (so at least Mr. Trevelyan believed) a bill 
for a large amount purporting to be accepted by Brownlow 
& Co. But this, also, could not be proved; it being im- 
possible to find any trace of the document. W e had found 
out enough about Mr. Mark Brownlow to stamp him as a 
liar and an impostor. But we could not prove that he was 
a robber and a murderer. 

I am now,^^ he continued, about to act on a sugges- 
tion made by Mr. Trevelyan himself; a suggestion which, 
had also, T think, occurred to you.^^ 

Do you mean about Marsden, the clerk?^^ 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


89 


do. If he could identify Brownlow as the man he 
surprised in Malachi^s office our case would be complete. 
Mr. Brownlow would sleep to-night in the House of Deten- 
tion, and a few weeks hence in the condemned cell at New- 
gate. I did not believe he was the man until I saw his 
Uncle Brownlow this morning. But it is quite clear now 
that the acceptance which Reuben Malachi discounted for 
him was a forgery. Probably Malachi himself suspected 
‘t, and charged for it in proportion, thinking that at the 
last moment a man of resources like Mark Brownlow would 
be sure somehow or other to take it up. Under certain 
•conditions a usurer like Reuben Malachi w’ould rather dis- 
count a forged acceptance at eighty per cent, than a genu- 
ine one at 1 per cent, above the bank rate; which is all 
that in fair business ought to be charged. If the Wll had 
become due, and Brownlow was unable to meet it—which 
the incident of the pawned ring seems to indicate — there 
would be a clear motive for the murder. The robbery of 
the jewels may in that case have been an afterthought, 
suggested by their presence on Malachi ^s table. However, 
it is no use speculating about that.^^ 

In my opinion there is already enough against him to 
justify us in applying for a warrant,^'’ I said. 

Mr. Wigram repeated, however, what he had said before; 
ithat Brownlow was already as good as captured. The 
necessity, meanwhile, of bringing Marsden face to face with 
him, or rather of enabling Marsden to see him from a posi- 
tion in which he himself would not be observed, was recog- 
nized by both of us. Marsden lived at 121 High Street, 
Camden Town. It was arranged that I should go and see 


90 


THE CASE OF KEUBEN MALACHI. 


him afc once, while Mr. Wigrarn was to ascertain whether 
Mr. Brownlow would dine at home that evening, so that 
Marsden might be enabled to have a look at him as he sat 
at table. The porfcer and several of the servants at the 
hotel were now in our pay, and they were remunerated at 
a rate which rendered it improbable that any of them 
would care to betray us. Even if they did there were 
enough detectives on the lookout to make it impossible for 
Brownlow to get away; and at the least sign of an attempt 
to escape he would be arrested. 

When I reached 121 High Street, Camden Town, I 
found, to my consternation, that Marsden was dangerously 
ill and could be seen by no one. He had been attacked 
first by a violent inflammation of the eyes, then by a fever; 
and now his brain was affected and, worst perhaps of all, 
he was unable to see. By the usual means employed in 
such cases I succeeded, notwithstanding the doctor^s pro- 
hibition, in gaining admittance to Marsden^s room. His 
eyes were in a terrible condition, and he was slightly de- 
lirious. 

This was a sad blow. The one decisive piece of evidence 
on which we were counting, not merely for Brownlow^s 
apprehension, but for his conviction, was denied us. I 
went round to the doctor who had been attending Marsden 
— he lived close by in Ampthill Square. But he could 
give me no hopes of his patient^s speedy recovery. There 
was only too great a chance, he said, of his never recover- 
ing at all; while if he did get well there was no saying 
whether he would ever again be able to see. 

It would be useless now to arrest Brownlow. It would 


THE CASE OF REUBEX MALACHI. 


91 


1)6 better^ no doubt, for Trevelyan^s cliances of acquittal 
that suspicion should be divided between him and another 
man; but what we wanted was not merely his acquittal for 
want of direct proof, but the clearest demonstration of 
guilt against the actual murderer. 

I told Mr. Wigram of Marsden^s condition. My news, 
however, was so unsatisfactory that I hesitated to call at 
Florence’s. 1 feared to tell Miss Montcalm of the con- 
dition in which I had found the one man by whom Brown- 
low could be identified if, as we all now firmly believed, it 
was he who had assassinated Eeuben Malachi. 

Miss Montcalm was not so much distressed as I thought 
she would have been. She expressed a hope that Marsden 
would soon be better. Meanwhile she had received infor- 
mation about a step taken by the prosecution which she 
could not explain. The landlady of the house in Half 
Moon Street where Trevelyan had been lodging — who, like 
all his friends, could not for one moment entertain the 
least suspicion of his guilt — had been to see her, and had 
told her that the police had paid a fresh visit to the house 
and had taken away all Mr. Trevelyan’s boots. 

I saw at once what this signified. The prosecution, 
equally with the solicitor for the defense, had noticed the 
footprints in the congealed blood, and wished to see 
whether any of Mr. Trevelyan’s boots would correspond 
with them. Neither Miss Montcalm, nor Florence, nor 
myself, were at all alarmed; though when 1 came to think 
of it I dreaded lest by some accident Trevelyan might 
among his collection of boots have one pair which more or 
less closely would fit the impression. 


^2 THE CASE OF KEUBEN MALACHI. 

But the boots worn by that wretch Brownlow/’ cried 
Miss Montcalm^ will fit the impression, beyond doubt. 
Why did none of you think of this?^^ 

For the simple reason/^ I replied, that until Mr. 
Wigram visited Malachi^s office, in order to search for 
papers, we did not know of these footprints. Wigram, I 
continued, does not attach much importance to the 
marks, thinking they must have been made the day after 
the murder by the men who carried the body away for the 
inquest. But I believe he is wrong. The blood by that 
time would have dried up and would not have yielded an 
impression. 

I know more about this matter than you do,^^ said 
Miss Montcalm. .1 have seen that villain Brownlow often 
enough, and he has enormous splay feet, whereas Eupert 
has small, delicate ones. Kupert^s shooting boots are 
smaller than Brownlow^s patent leathers. I can take you 
to the very shop in St. Jameses Street where Brownlow 
deals. 

At the hotel we shall have no trouble in getting the 
boots he actually wears. 

Do so, then, without a moments delay. But do you 
think the prosecution, when they find that Eupert ^s boots 
do not correspond with the marks, will give him the bene- 
fit of the discovery? Not they! They will take his life if 
they can. They will not spoil their case by letting out the 
least thing that would tell in favor of his innocence. 

I endeavored to explain to the excited girl that it was 
impossible for me to go straight to Long^s Hotel and offer 
the porter, whom I did not know, a five-pound note for 


THE CASE OF REUBEK MALACHL 


93 


such of Brownlow^s boots as he might be able to secure. I 
told her, however, that I would drive straight to Mr. Wig- 
ram^s, and that he assuredly would before long have the 
boots in his possession. 

When I told Mr. Wigram of the capture of boots made 
at Trevelyan ^s lodgings, and proposed a counter-raid 
against the boots of Mr. Brownlow, he welcomed the idea 
as an excellent one. He could not of course remember 
whether the impressions he had noticed in the congealed 
blood were large or small; but he was as much convinced 
as I was of Trevelyan^s innocence, and almost as much as 
I was of Brownlow^s guilt. He felt sure, then, that Tre- 
velyan^s boots would not correspond with the footprints; 
while if Mr. Brownlow^s did, he declared that he should at 
once take out a warrant. Unfortunately we could not 
take action in the matter without some delay. Jt would be 
necessary to obtain a new order for entering the premises 
in Craven Street, and this could not be done until the fol- 
lowing day. 

The boots which Mr. Brownlow left out that night to be 
cleaned were not brought back to him the following morn- 
ing; and as soon as he went down to breakfast a second 
2)air of walking boots were taken from his dressing-room 
and delivered to one of the detectives outside the hotel, by 
whom they were brought to Mr. Wigram ^s office. Then 
Mr. Wigram, myself, a detective, and the officer appointed 
by the court, went to the house in Craven Street and at 
once applied the critical test. 

I saw at a glance that the footprints were enormous. 
And Mr. Brownlow^s boots, which were indeed of colossal 


04 


THE CASE OF REUBEN JVLALACHI. 


proportions;, fitted them exactly. We tried first one pair, 
then the other. But as they had been made on the same 
last the result in each case was the same. The work had 
occupied scarcely a minute; and five minutes later Mr. 
Wigram was at Bow Street, where the magistrate granted, 
without delay, the desired warrant. . 

When the police reached Long^s Hotel, Mr. Brownlow, 
after breakfasting and smoking a cigar, had gone upstairs 
to put the finishing touch to his toilet before exhibiting 
himself in the street; and he was complaining loudly that 
his boots were taken down-stairs to be cleaned and never 
brought back. Two pairs, he said, M^ere missing; and he 
wanted to know the meaning of it. Before the servant, 
whom he was questioning, had had time to invent an ex- 
cuse, the police were upon him. A four-wheeled cab was 
at the door, and he was driven straight to Bow Street, 


CHAPTER X. 

The case against Brownlow w'as even now by no means 
complete. But at the worst the evidence was such that, 
even if he were acquitted, Trevelyan could scarcely be 
found guilty; and a condemnation of both of them as ac- 
complices in the same deed, considering that the two inen 
w^ere at enmity, and that not the slightest proof of com- 
plicity existed, was out of the question. 

We knew that Brownlow had had dealings with Reuben 
Malachi, but could only prove it by the evidence of the 
man who stood already accused of the assassination. 
Brownlow had had in his possession immediately after the 


THE CASE OF REUBEN 3IALACHI. 


95 


murder a ring which seemed to have belonged to the collec- 
tion of which Malachi had been robbed. But to this even 
the prisoner himself could not swear, and no one else knew 
anything on the subject. On the other hand, Mr. Brun- 
ton and myself could either of us prove that Brownlow, 
when he pretended to have been in Paris, was really in 
London. We could also show that he was in want of 
)noney at the time, and that he had pawned the ring to 
which suspicions were attached. Finally, his boots fitted 
exactly the footprints in the congealed blood, and this was 
a matter not of opinion or belief, but of fact. 

All, in short, that could be established against Brownlow 
was that his boots corresponded with the marks left on the 
blood-coated floor, and that he had pawned a ring in Lon-' 
don within a quarter of an hour of the murder, at a time 
when, by his own account, he was in Paris. These facts 
would doubtless be enough to deter all who became 
acquainted with them from consenting to share a double- 
bedded room with Mr. Brownlow — especially if they hap- 
pened, to his knowledge, to have with them a large sum of 
money, and, above all, if he happened to have about him a 
drawing-room pistol. But they did not legally prove that 
he had assassinated Reuben Malachi. To obtain a verdict 
on this point the identification of Brownlow by Marsden, 
the clerk, as the man whom he had surprised in Malachi^ s 
office, was necessary; and this, in Marsden's blind and 
helpless condition, was for the present impossible. 

There was only too much reason for believing that this 
would be impossible also in the future. I had made in- 
quiries only the day before as to Marsden^s state, and found 


96 


THE CASE OF REUBEiq’ MALACHL 


that it had scarcely improved. He was less feverish, and 
the delirium had quite ceased. But his eyes were terribly 
inflamed, and he had completely lost his sight. 

Brownlow had now been examined before the magistrate, 
and had been remanded for the production of further evi- 
dence. Bail had been tendered, but, as in the case of Tre- 
velyan, had been refused. He was to be brought up again 
in three days, and meanwhile I was very assiduous in my 
inquiries after poor Marsden^s health. On the second day, 
though his eyes were still in a hopeless state, there was a 
marked improvement in his general health, and I was 
allowed to see him. I had been told not to talk to him on 
any subject that would be likely to excite him. I there- 
fore begged the doctor to be present while I conversed with 
him, so that if there were any signs of undue agitation on 
his part I might be called upon to desist. He asked me, 
however, for news of Trevelyan before I had had time to 
lead up to the subject, and I told him at once that there 
were hopes now of his being fully exculpated. 

How?^^ he asked. 

I told him that another man had been arrested, who had 
had dealings with Eeuben Malachi, and dealings of rather 
a questionable character; and I asked whether he remem- 
bered having seen at the ofiice a Mr. Brownlow. He had 
no recollection, however, of any such name, nor had he 
ever entered, or seen it entered, in Malachi^s call- book. 

This was not at the first glance very satisfactory. But 
when I reflected on the matter it only seemed to show that 
Brownlow had made a point of keeping his dealings with 
Malachi strictly secret. His uncle had threatened him 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


97 


with disinheritance or with the stoppage of such allow- 
ance as he still made him in case of his having fresh deal- 
ings with money-lenders. This, too, apart from the ap- 
parent fact that the bill which Malachi had discounted for 
him bore a forged acceptance. 

However,^^ I said, whether you knew Mr. Brownlow 
or not, you saw the actual murderer, and, if you saw him 
only for a few seconds, you have a faculty of rapid and ex- 
act observation — as Mr. Trevelyan and myself both know 
from your lifelike portrait — and you could perhaps de- 
scribe him.^^ 

I could show you what the man was like.^^ 

You could? How so?^^ 

Quite easily. The day after Mr. Trevelyan^s commit- 
tal, when I' was in the next room, grieving over his dread- 
ful position, I tried to recall the murderer^s features. I 
had been out in the rain, I had come home wet through, 
and was already getting feverish. But I remember now 
that I finished my sketch. I think, indeed, I made two. 
If no one has taken them away they must be there still. 
Please see. 

A moment afterward I had in my hands two portraits of 
Mr. Brownlow, both of them lifelike. 

“ My poor boy,^^ I cried, returning to the invalid^s bed- 
side, you have saved the lif^ of your friend. This is the 
murderer!^^ 

DonT be too excited about it,^^ said the doctor to 
his patient. ‘^Keep calm, and this news will do you 
good.^^ 

“ I don^t know what the rules of evidence may say to 


98 


THE CASE OF REUIBEJ?- 3IALACHI. 


I observed, as I hurried on my overcoat, ‘‘but the 
proof of identity, as it stands, is to me complete/^ 

Taking with me the portraits, of which one was almost 
a repetition of the other, I jumped into a hansom, and 
drove as fast as the horse could carry me to Lincoln's Inn. 
Mr. Wigram was not in. He had gone to Newgate to see 
his client, and hastening after him I caught him just as he 
was coming out of the prison gates. 

“Here is all we wanted, I said. “Here, and here 
again, is an exact likeness of the murderer. Whom does 
it resemble?^^ 

“ It is the living image of Brownlow,^^ he replied; and 
taking with him the portraits, he returned with them to 
the cell in order to show them to Trevelyan. 

From Newgate I drove direct to Florence's, and told 
Miss Montcalm at once what was indeed the fact — that the 
innocence of Trevelyan and the guilt of Brownlow were 
both established beyond doubt. Needless to say that she 
was overjoyed beyond description; so much so, indeed, that 
a reaction quickly took place. Her nerves had been in an 
overstrained condition ever since Trevelyan^s arrest. The 
tension was now at an end, and, giving way for the first 
time to her emotion, she sobbed hysterically. 

“ She has much to thank you for,^^ said Florence. “ If 
the case had been got up in the ordinary way we should 
have known nothing about these portraits. 

“ Not quite so soon, perhaps, I replied. 

“ Probably not at all. If the poor young man had died 
without your visiting him and questioning him, the people 
about him would have thought nothing of these sketches. 


THE CASE OE KEUBEH MALACHI. 


99 


Probably all sorts of objections will be made to them 
by Brownlow^’s counsel, and to give them their full weight 
it will be necessary for Marsden to swear that he made 
them from memory, and from direct recollection of the 
man whom he surprised under the gaslight with the box in 
his hand/^ 

The necessary declaration, duly attested by witnesses, 
was obtained the following day. But there was no oppor- 
tunity, nor was there any immediate necessity, for produc- 
ing this new evidence. At the second examination, held 
the same morning, Brownlow had been committed for 
trial. 


CHAPTER XL 

The trial of Rupert Trevelyan for the murder of Reu- 
ben Malachi excited great interest; and, in spite of the 
high character of the accused, and of the absence of any 
direct evidence against him, there was a general impression 
among the public that he would be found guilty. He had 
had secret dealings with a very shady character, and by his 
own account had sold him jewels to the value of £4,000 
without giving any receipt for the money: at least, no re- 
ceipt had been found. The evidence as to time, place, 
and, above all, motive, pointed alike to Rupert Trevelyan; 
while against Brownlow, the second man accused, there 
was absolutely nothing but the testimony as to his boots; 
and the Brownlow party, as against the Trevelyan party, 
had no doubt but that at the proper moment boots would 
be produced from a dozen ready-made shops exactly similar 


100 


THE CASE OF REUBEH MALACHI. 


in shape and size to those which corresponded with the 
footmarks in the blood. 

Trevelyan ^s character for integrity and honor was, as 
the Bro willow party admitted, unimpeachable; but what, 
they asked, in a case of murder and against established 
facts, was character worth? Of the new proofs that were 
brought forward at Trevelyan^s trial — of the portraits, 
that is to say, in which the features of Brownlow were so 
clearly depicted — nothing was known to the general public 
until the trial came on. 

The likenesses were to be used for a double purpose; and 
*the first object they would serve was that of proving that 
the portrait of the true murderer, drawn and sworn to by 
the youth who had almost surprised him in the act, bore 
no resemblance whatever to Eupert Trevelyan. 

The day before the trial the two Huntlys — the soldier 
and the clergyman— dined at Norfolk Street with Florence, 
Miss Montcalm, and myself. The party was not precisely 
a joyful one; but no one was gloomy. We were all glad to 
think that the next day Trevelyan would beyond doubt be 
acquitted. We even hoped that after hearing the evidence 
for the defense the judge would stop the case, or, appeal- 
ing at once to the jury, would direct a verdict for the ac- 
cused without giving them the trouble of leaving the 
court. 

The evidence for the prosecution need not be gone over 
again. There was nothing to add to what had already 
been deposed before the magistrate. I elicited in cross-ex- 
amination from the policeman, who gave evidence as to the 
position in which the body had been found, that he and 


THE CASE OF KEUBEH MALACHI. 


101 


other members of the force had been employed to compare 
a number of boots taken from Trevelyan '’s lodgings with 
the footprints left in the congealed blood around Eeuben 
Malachi^s chair, and that the boots and the footprints did 
not at all correspond. This was a strong point in favor of 
Trevelyan, and it probably impressed the j ury all the more 
as coming from a witness for the prosecution. An at- 
tempt had been made to convict him by his boots, and it 
had failed. For the defense the only evidence we proposed 
to put forward was (1) evidence as to character, which we 
in no way relied upon in connection with the case, but 
which was to be brought forward in order to rehabilitate 
Trevelyan in the eyes of the general public; and (2) evi- 
dence that the murder had been committed by Brownlow. 

The production of Brownlow^s boots and the depositions 
of the police as to their exact correspondence with the foot- 
prints in the blood, made a visible impression on all in court; 
and when this was followed by the exhibition of the por- 
traits the sensation caused was manifested in a general 
whispering, which sounded like a suppressed roar. The 
ushers called out silence, and after a moment^s excite- 
ment order was restored. 

Then the sworn evidence of Robert Marsden, taken by 
commission, was read. Marsden declared that he had been 
accustomed to make portraits from memory, and that the 
only portraits or drawings of any kind in his sitting-room 
at the time of his falling ill had been made by him from 
recollection of the man whom he had surprised beneath the 
gas-light in Malachi^s office, with a box in his hand, the 
moment after the murder. That the portraits in no way 


102 


THE CASE OF REUBE>^ MALACHI. 


resembled Trevelyan was apparent to every one. Our next 
point was to show that they bore an unmistakable likeness 
to Mark Brownlow. To prove this Brownlow was brought 
into court between two policemen. Again the court was 
filled with a hoarse murmur; for the portraits were as like 
the original as the best photographer could have made 
therfi. 

The evidence for the defense was now complete. Ser- 
geant Valentine made an eloquent speech for the prosecu- 
tion^ in which, while putting aside the evidence of the boots 
as unimportant (though it was the prosecution which had 
first thought of profiting by such testimony), he protested 
against the reception of Eobert Marsden^s evidence. He 
expressed doubts as to the power of any artist, however 
skillful, to reproduce from memory the features of a man 
whom he had seen under the glare of a gas-light for only a 
few seconds, and laid stress on the fact that Eobert Mars- 
den was a friend of the prisoner, to whom he was indebt- 
ed for many kindnesses. How, he asked, could Eobert 
Marsden, blind as he was, be sure that the pencil drawings 
described as portraits of Mark Brownlow were really those 
which he had made immediately before falling ill — at a 
time when he was already in a morbid state of excitement, 
and scarcely knew what he was doing: It was quite possi- 
ble that, without being conscious of it, he had seen Mr. 
Brownlow^s face under quite different circumstances, and, 
with his morbidly retentive memory, had recalled its lines 
and features in spite of himself. 

Nevertheless, MarsdeiVs evidence had been properly at- 
tested, and he swore very positively that he had never seen 


THE CASE OF KEUBEK HALACHI. 


103 


the man whos^ portrait he had made in double until the 
afternoon of the murder, when he suddenly found himself 
face to face with him; and though this evidence would per- 
haps not be enough to convict Mr. Brownjow, it was suffi- 
cient to procure the acquittal of Eupert Trevelyan. 

The jury, addressed very briefly by the judge, pro- 
nounced a verdict of acquittal, and did so, as I had hoped 
and almost foreseen, without leaving the box. 

Trevelyan came out of Newgate as calmly as he had 
gone into the House of Detention; and he, the two Hunt- 
lys, and myself drove straight to Florence’s, where I had 
already taken care that Miss Montcalm should receive a 
special message, sent off the moment the verdict was pro- 
nounced. We had had the greatest difficulty in preventing 
her from coming to the court; and to satisfy as much as 
possible her feverish anxiety I had sent her telegram after 
telegram as the case went on. 

I did not witness Ethel Montcalm’s meeting with Trevel- 
yan. He had gone ahead in one hansom with Tom Hunt- 
ly, while I followed with the clergyman in another. We 
all, however, dined and spent the evening together, and 
before taking my leave I reminded Florence of what in the 
tumult of events might, I delicately hinted, have perhaps 
escaped her memory. She begged me, however, not’ to 
speak of it until the case of Eeuben Malachi was quite at 
an end, and asked me how I could think she had forgotten 
when I had been giving her new proofs of affection at every 
moment. 

Tom Huntly went back to Aldei'shot that night by the 
ordinary late train. William Huntly stayed at Norfolk 


104 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


Street. I, on my way back to the Temple, accompanied 
Trevelyan to his lodgings in Half Moon Street, where his 
landlady wept with joy at seeing him again. She had 
heard of the acquittal almost as soon as it was pronounced, 
through the evening papers, and though she had all along 
felt sure that his innocence must in the end be recognized, 
she had been so alarmed by the misfortunes which had 
already happened to him that she could not, she said, but 
feel the most painful anxiety as to the result. 

I went upstairs, and smoked a cigar with Trevelyan; 
and in the course of conversation he told me several things 
about Brownlow which had long before convinced him that 
the man was capable of any sort of villainy. He had gam- 
bled away large sums of money, and had resorted to all 
kinds of disgraceful expedients, including, as it now 
seemed, forgery, in order to raise fresh sums, which, as 
soon as obtained, were squandered in dissipation or lost at 
play. Trevelyan had hated him, he said,Jn a perfectly 
natural way, for presuming to set his aifections .upon Ethel: 
and, knowing how much he detested him, had refrained for 
that reason from saying anything against him. It was only 
during the last few weeks, since his return on leave from 
India, that he had found him out; and he could not, he 
said, but regard himself as in some measure responsible for 
Malachi^s death, since it was he who, before he knew 
Brownlow in his true character, had introduced him to the 
Jew. 

What had really taken place, he believed, was this. 
Brownlow, being without funds to meet the bill on Brown- 
low and Co. — the bill of which the senior partner in that 


THE CASE OE REUBEH MALACHI. 


105 


firm knew nothing, and to which, therefore, the acceptance 
must have been forged — had gone to Malachi, or more 
probably, had met him somewhere in order to persuade 
him to renew. Supposing Malachi to have refused. Brown- 
low must have gone to his office at a time when he expect- 
ed him to be alone; and finding that he really was alone, 
had first made him produce the bill as if with a view to 
payment, and then shot him and seized the document. As 
for the robbery of the jewels, Trevelyan felt sure that it 
had been committed on the impulse of the moment, just 
because they happened to be within reach. 

Since Trevelyan ^s acquittal we had none of us occupied 
ourselves much with the case against Brownlow. Trevel- 
yan and myself had spoken about him late at night. But 
at Florence's his name had not been mentioned; and the 
innocence of Eupert Trevelyan having been clearly proved 
and publicly proclaimed, there was probably not one of us 
—certainly not Trevelyan, and not, I believe, even Ethel 
Montcalm herself — who cared much about seeing Brownlow 
brought to justice. This, however, only meant that we 
had no particular wish to have him hanged; for it would 
have been very unsatisfactory, as diminishing the signifi- 
cance of Trevelyan^s acquittal, if Brownlow also had been 
set free. 

This, however, was rendered quite out of the question by 
the recovery of Eobert Marsden, who, on the day of 
Brownlow^s trial, was brought into court, and swore not 
only that the two portraits which he had executed — and 
which he now in a direct manner recognized as his work — 
had been drawn from recollection of the man he had met 


lOG 


THE CASE OF REUP.EH MALACHI. 


in the office; but moreover that that man was no other 
than the prisoner in the dock. This positive evidence, fol- 
lowing upon so much evidence, more or less important, of 
an indirect kind, was conclusive; and Brownlow was found 
guilty and sentenced to death. His uncle had spared no 
expense in securing the best counsel; for though he had 
renounced his dissolute nephew, he did not (if only for the 
sake of the family) wish him to be hanged. 

When, however, all hope had vanished, it was not to his 
uncle that Mark Brownlow was indebted for the last act of 
mercy to be shown to him in this world. 

Whenever a man gets into a serious difficulty the first 
question to be asked about the matter is, according to the 
well-known story of the Italian judge: Who was the 
woman?’ ^ 

The same question may also be asked when from a 
serious difficulty a man has somehow made his escape. 

The woman in Brownlow’s case was one to whom he had 
not behaved well; but who, for unknown reasons, and pos- 
sibly from gratitude for some act of kindness or lavish gen- 
erosity on his partj had formed a deep affection for him. 
By representing herself as his sister she procured admit- 
tance to his cell after the sentence of death had been pro- 
nounced, and while seeming to wipe away tears which 
would have been natural under the circumstances, but 
which she did not shed, dropped a handkerchief at his feet 
and, instead of picking it up, took from him one which he 
held in his hand. 

On leaving the cell the criminal’s only friend gave him a 
significant look of which the special meaning was not at 


THE CASE OF REUBEJS' MALACHI. 


107 


first apparent to him. Then, seeing that she was not 
understood, she pressed the corner of her handkerchief — 
his handkerchief that is to say— to her mouth and began to 
suck it. Brownlow, when she had quitted him forever, did 
the same with the handkerchief left in his hands (it was 
one, he fancied, that he had himself given to her during 
the first days of their acquaintance), and found that it had 
an intensely bitter taste, which seemed to have an astringent 
effect on his lips and tongue. He tried another corner, 
then the center, and found that the cambric was every- 
where as bitter as could be. 

Was it the bitterness of death? If this were strychnine 
he was saved. He had taken tonics which his doctor had 
told him contained strychnine in very minute quantities; 
and he fancied that he recognized the taste. There was 
some water left in his drinking-glass. With , the greatest 
possible care he steeped the handkerchief in it and then 
squeezed the moistened cambric like a sponge into his 
mouth. 

AVhen, a few minutes later, the jailer came to the cell to 
bring him food he found him stretched on his back quite 
dead; his limbs bent backward and perfectly rigid. The 
man^s first impression was that he had died in a fit. Then 
seeing the handkerchief in his mouth he fancied he must 
have suffocated himself. But a very slight examination of 
the handkerchief by the prison doctor showed what had 
really taken place. 

A few days after the announcement of Mark Browii- 
low^s death, a letter was received by Mr. Josiah Brownlow, 
his uncle, from a firm of bankers in Paris, informing him 


108 


THE CASE OF REUBEN MALACHI. 


that they held a case of jewels, the property of his nephew, 
the late Mr. Mark Brownlow, on which they had advanced 
the sum of £3000, and begging to know whether he pro- 
posed to redeem them. 

Mr. Josiah Brownlow forwarded the letter without com- 
ment to the solicitors who had defended Rupert Trevelyan; 
and Trevelyan had now to decide what he should do. 

Miss Montcalm, when Rupert mentioned the matter to 
her, said that there could be only one thing to do; to re- 
deem the jewels with a portion of the £4000 that Trevel- 
yan, with such painful consequences, had realized for her 
benefit. This was accordingly done; but not until Trevel- 
yan had come to an arrangement with Malachi’s heirs, 
which cost him another thousand or more. Then Trevel- 
yan and Ethel got married, so that, apart from other rea- 
sons, they might go to Paris together: and Mr. Montcalm, 
who in a long letter of regret had expressed his wish to 
attend the ceremony in his jDroper character of father, sig- 
nalized his presence by a gift of £10,000. 

Among the contents of the jewel case was a ring, which 
corresponded by its general design with the one which had 
been dejDOsited by the wretched Brownlow in the hands of 
Mr. Brunton. 

It opened in the same manner, and exhibited in similar 
characters the inscription aei. This, it was to be sup- 
posed, was a ring given by Trevelyan^s mother to his fath- 
er, as the corresponding one had apparently been given by 
his father to his mother. 

She had given him a ring marked with her initials. He 
had given her a ring marked with the Greek word signify- 


THE CASE OF REUBEI^' MALACHI. 


109 


ing eternity, which to him, as to her, these initials spelled. 
In violation, I believe, of the law, Mr. Brunton restored 
to Trevelyan the ring which had been stolen and pawnq,d 
by Brownlow. No one, however, was injured by the trans- 
fer, and if the form of appearing before a magistrate had 
been gone through an order for its delivery would doubtless 
in due course have been granted. 

As for the business, it was made over on easy terms to 
Mr. Brunton himself. He was entitled to the reward of 
£1000 for having discovered one of the missing jewels; and 
though he declined to accept it, Florence, her two brothers, 
and myself were all very anxious to do him a good turn. 
He had saved up £5000, and I accepted this in Florence's 
name as half of the purchase-money. But we all wanted 
to close our connection with the concern as soon as possi- 
ble, and he managed to borrow £3000 on his own account, 
^nd had, I believed, a thousand lent him by each of the 
two brothers. 

At all events, Florence, when, a week after the return of 
the Trevelyans from Paris, she became my wife, had the 
satisfaction of reflecting that in marrying her I was not 
connecting myself with the pawnbroking interest; though, 
as I had told her before, I should have been only too de- 
lighted to become her husband even if she had been the 
daughter of an old clothesman or of a dealer in marine 
stores. 

I begged her, moreover, to remember that my very brief 
connection with Mr. Brunton^s financial business had 
enabled me to free from a terrible accusation one of her 
best friends; for if on October 20th, 1868, I had not seen 


110 THE CASE OF EEUBEN MALACHL 

Mark Brownlow pawn the stolen ring, and Eobert Marsden 
offer as a pledge one of his life-like portraits, it would have 
been difficult to prove Trevelyan ^s innocence, and impossi- 
ble to establish the guilt of the true murderer. 


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BEWARE OF INilTATIONl^ 


NEW TABERNACLE SERMONS 


BY 

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MUNllO’S PUBLICATIONS. 


The Seaside Llbrary-Pochet Edition. 


Pei'sons who wish to purchase the following works in complete and un- 
abridged form are cautioned to order and see that they get The Skasidik 
Library, Pocket Edition, as works published in other Libraries are fre- 
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any address, postage free, on receipt of price, by the publisher. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Miinvo’s Publishing: Hoiise» 

P. O. Box 8751. 17 to 27 Vande water Street, N. Y. 

{When ordering by mail please order by nu7ribers.'\ 


LIST OF AUTHORS. 


Works by the author of “ Addie’s 
Husband.” 

388 Addie’s Husband ; or, Through 


Clouds to Sunshine 10 

604 My Poor Wife 10 


Dower,” 

246 A Fatal Dower 10 

372 Phyllis’ Probation 10 

461 His Wedded Wife 20 

829 The Actor’s Ward 20 

Works by the author of “ A Great 
Mistake.” 

244 A Great Mistake 20 

688 Cherry.... 10 


Works by the author of “A 
Woman’s Love-Story,” 

392 A Woman’s Love-Story 10 

877 Griselda. 20 

Mrs. Alexander’s Works. 

5 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

17 The Wooing O’t 20 

62 The Executor 20 

189 Valerie’s Fate 10 

229 Maid, Wife, or Widow? 10 

236 Which Shall it Be? 20 

839 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid. . . 10 

490 A Second Life 20 

664 At Bay 10 

TW Beaton’s Bargain 20 


797 Look Before You Leap 26 

805 The Freres. 1st half 26 

805 The Freres. 2d half 26 

806 Her Dearest Foe. 1st half 20 

806 Her Dearest Foe. 2d half 20 

814 The Heritage of Langdale 20 

815 Ralph Wilton’s Weird 16 

Alison’s Works. 

194 “ So Near, and Yet So Far I” . . . 16 

278 For Life and Love 16 

481 The House That Jack Built 16 

F. Austey’s Works. 

59 Vice Versa 20 

225 The Giant’s Robe 26 

503 The Tinted Venus. A Farcical 

Romance 10 

819 A Fallen Idol 20 

R. M. Ballantyne’s Works. 

89 The Red Eric 10 

95 The Fire Brigade 10 

96 Erling the Bold 10 

772 Gascoyne, the Sandal -Wood 

Trader 20 

S, Bariug-Gonld’s Works. 

787 Court Royal 20 

878 Little Tu’penny 10 

Basil’s Works, 

344 “ The Wearing of the Green ” - . 26 

547 A Coquette’s Conquest ^ 

585 A Drawn Game . 26 


ii 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. 


Anne Beale’s Works, 

188 Idonea 20 

199 The Fisher Village 10 

Walter Besaut’s Works. 

97 All in a Garden Fair 20 

137 Uncle Jack 10 

140 A Glorious Fortune 10 

146 Love Finds the Way, and Other 

Stories. By Besant and Rice 10 

230 Dorothy Forster 20 

824 In Luck at Last 10 

541 Uncle Jack 10 

651 “ Self or Bearer ” 10 

882 Children of Gibeon 20 

M. Betham-Ed^vards’s Works. 

373 Love and Mirage ; or, The Wait- 
ing on an Island 10 

S79 The Flower of Doom, and Other 

Stories .. 10 

594 Doctor Jacob 20 

William Black’s Works, 

1 Yolande 20 

18 Shandon Bells 20 

21 Sunrise : A Story of These 

Times 20 

23 A Princess of Thule 20 

39 In Silk Attire 20 

44 Macleod of Dare 20 

49 That Beautiful Wretch — 20 

50 The Strange Adventures of a 

Phaeton 20 

70 White Wings: A Yachting Ro- 
mance 10 

78 Madcap Violet 20 

81 A Daughter of Heth 20 

124 Three Featliers . , 20 

125 The Monarch of Mincing Lane. 20 

126 Kilmeny 20 

138 Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 20 
265 Judith Shakespeare : Her Love 

Affairs and Other Adventures 20 
472 The Wise Women of Inverness. 10 
627 White Heather 20 


B* D* Blackmore’s Works. 

67 Lorna Doone. 1st half 20 

67 Lorna Doone. 2d half 20 

427 The Remarkable History of Sir 

Thomas Upmore, Bart., M. P. 20 

615 Mary Anerley 20 

625 Erema; or, ^ly Father’s Sin... 20 

629 Cripps, the Carrier 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. First half... 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. Second halL 20 

631 Christowell. A Dartmoor Tale 20 

632 ( lara V'aughan. 20 

633 The Maid of Sker. First half. . 20 
633 The Maid of Sker. Second half 20 

636 Alice Lorraine. First half 20 

636 Alice Lorraine. Second half.. 20 

Miss M. E. Braddon’s Works. 

35 Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

66 Phantom Fortitne 20 

74 Aurora Floyd ^ 

110 Under the Red Flag. 10 


153 The Golden Calf 20 

204 Vixen 20 

21 1 The Octoroon [ 10 

2:34 Barbara ; or. Splendid Misei-y. . ‘iO 

263 An Ishmaelite 20 

315 The Mistletoe .Bough. Edited 

by Miss Braddon 20 

434 Wyllaid’s Weird 20 

478 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Part 1 20 

478 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Part II 20 

480 Married in Haste. Edited by 
Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

488 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter... 20 

489 Rupert Godwin 20 

495 Mount Royal 20 

496 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

497 The Lady’s Mile 20 

498 Only a Clod 20 

499 The' Cloven Foot 20 

5ll A Strange World 20 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant ^ 

524 Strangers and Pilgrims ^ 

529 The Doctor’s Wife ... 20 

542^ Fenton’s Quest 20 

541 Cut by the County; or, Grace 

Dai-nel 10 

548 The Fatal Marriage, and The 

Shadow in the Corner 10 

549 Dudley Carleon ; or. The Broth- 

er's Secret, and George Caul- 
field’s Journey. . . 10 

552 Hostages to Fortune 20 

553 Birds of Prey ^ 

554 Charlotte’s Inheritance. (Se- 

quel to “ Birds of Prey ”) . . . . 20 
557 To the Bitter End 20 

559 Taken at the Flood 20 

560 Asphodel ^ 

561 Just as I am; or, A Living Lie ^ 

567 Dead Men’s Shoes ^ 

570 John Marchmont’s Legacy. ... 20 
618 The Mistletoe Bough. Christ- 
mas, 1885. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

840 One Thing Needful; or, The Pen- 
alty of Fate . 20 

881 Mohawks ^ 

Works by Charlotte M, Braeme» 
Author of “Dora Thorne.” 

19 Her Mother’s Sin 10 

51 Dora Thorne .. 1 ... 20 

54 A Broken Wedding-Ring 30 

68 A Queen Amongst Women 10 

69 Madolin’s Lover 20 

73 Redeemed by Love 20 

76 Wife in Nahie Only 20 

79 Wedded and Parted 10 

92 Lord Lynne’s Choice 10 

148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms. 10 

190 Romance of a Black Veil 10 

220 Which Loved Him Best? 10 

237 Repented at Leisure 20 

249 Prince Charlie’s Daughter ” . 10 


POCKET EDITION. 


iii 


Charlotte M. Braeine’s Works 

(continued). 


850 Sunshine and Roses; or, Di- 
ana’s Discipline 10 

254 The Wife’s Secret, and Fair 

but False 10 

283 The Sin of a Lifetime 10 

287 At War With Herself 10 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight 10 

291 Love’s Warfare 10 

292 A Golden Heart 10 

293 The Shadow of a Sin 10 

294 Hilda 10 

295 A Woman’s War.,.. 10 

296 A Rose in Thorns 10 

297 Her Marriage Vow; or, Hilary’s 

Folly 10 

299 The Fatal Lilies, and A Bride 

from the Sea 10 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

Love 10 

303 Ingledew House, and More Bit- 

ter than Death 10 

304 In Cupid’s Net 10 

305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen- 

doline's Dream 10 

306 A Golden Dawn, and Love for 

a Day 10 

307 Two Kisses, and Like no Other 

Love 10 

308 Beyond Pardon 20 

411 A Bitter Atonement 20 

433 My Sister Kate 10 

459 A Woman’s Temptation 20 

460 Under a Shadow.., 20 

465 The Earl’s Atonement 20 

466 Between Two Loves 20 

467 A Struggle for a Ring 20 

469 Lady Darner’s Secret 20 

470 Evelyn’s Folly 20 

471 Thrown on the World 20 

476 Between Two Sins 10 

516 Put Asunder ; or. Lady Castle- 

maine’s Divorce 20 

576 Her Martyrdom 20 

626 A Fair Mystery 20 

741 The Heiress of Hilldrop; or. 

The Romance of a Young 

Girl 20 

T45 For Another’s Sin ; or, A Strug- 
gle for Love 20 

792 Set in Diamonds '. 20 

821 The World Betw^een Them 20 

853 A True Magdalen 20 

854 A Woman’s Error 20 

Charlotte Brouters Works. 

15 Jane Eyre 20 

57 Shirley 20 

Rhoda Broughton’s Works. 

86 Belinda 20 

101 Second Thoughts 20 

»27 Nancy 20 

645 Mrs. Smith of Longmains 10 

758 “ Good-bye, Sweetheart!” 20 

765 Not Wisely, But Too Weil 20 

167 Joan 20 | 


768 Red as a Rose is She 20 

769 Cometh Up as a Flower 20 

862 Betty’s Visions 10 

Mary E. Bryan’s Works. 

731 The Bayou Bride 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 

Red House. 1st half 20 

857 Kildee; or, The Sphinx of the 
Red House. 2d half 20 

Robert Buchanan’s Works. 

145 ” Storm-Beaten God and The 

Man ... 20 

154 Annan Water 20 

181 The New' Abelard 10 

398 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan 10 

646 The Master of the Mine 20 

Captain Fred Burnaby’s Works. 

375 A Ride to Khiva 20 

384 On Horseback Through Asia 
Minor 20 

E, Fairfax Byrrne’s Works. 

521 Entangled 20 

538 A Fair Country Maid 20 

Hall Caine’s Works. 

445 The Shadow of a Crime 20 

520 She’s All the World to Me 10 

Rosa Noiichette Carey’s Works. 

215 Not Like Other Girls 20 

396 Robert Ord’s Atonement 20 

551 Barbara Heathcote’s Trial 20 

608 For Lilias 20 

Lewis Carroll’s Works. 

462 Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 
land. Illustrated by John 

Tenniel 20 

789 Through the Looking-Glass, 
and What Alice Found There. 


Illustrated by John Tenniel. . 20 

Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron’s Works. 


595 A North Country Maid 20 

796 In a Grass Country 20 

Wilkie Collins’s Works. 

52 The New Magdalen 10 

102 The Moonstone 20 

167 Heart and Science 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

175 Love’s Random Shot, and Other 

Stories 10 

233 “ I Say No;” or. The Love-Let- 
ter Answ'ered 20 

508 The Girl at the Gate 10 

591 The Queen of Hearts 20 

613 The Ghost’s Touch, and Percy 

and the Prophet 10 

623 My Lady’s Money 10 

701 The Woman in White, 1st half 20 

701 The Woman in White. 2d half 20 

702 Man and Wife. 1st half 20 

702 3lan and Wife. 2d half, 20 

764 The Evil Genius 2G 


THE SEASIDE LIBKARY. 


lY 


Mabel Collins's Works. 


749 Lord Vanecoort’s Daughter 20 

828 ThePrettiest Woman in Warsaw 20 

Hugh Conway’s Works, 

240 Called Back 10 

251 The Daughter of the Stars, and 

Other Tales 10 

301 Dark Days 10 

302 'rhe Blatchford Bequest 10 

502 Carriston’s Gift 10 

625 Paul Vargas, and Other Stories 10 

5-13 A Family Affair 20 

601 Slings and Arrows, and Other 

Stories 10 

711 A Cardinal Sin 20 

804 Living or Dead 20 

830 Bound by a Spell 20 


J. Feniiiiore Cooper’s Works. 


60 Tile Last of the Mohicans 20 

63 The Spy 20 

309 The Pathfinder 20 

310 The Prairie 20 

318 The Pioneers; or, The Sources 

of the Susquehanna 20 

349 The Two Admirals 20 

359 The Water-Witch 20 

361 The Red Rover 20 

373 Wing and Wing 20 

378 Homeward Bound; or, The 

Chase 20 

379 Home as Found. (Sequel to 

“ Homeward Bound”) 20 

380 Wyandotte; or, The Hutted 

Knoll 20 

385 The Headsman; or. The Ab- 

baye des Vignerons 20 

394 The Bravo 20 

397 Lionel Lincoln; or, The Leag- 
uer of Boston 20 

400 The Wept of Wish-Tou-Wish. . . 20 

413 Afloat and Ashore 20 

414 Miles Wallingford. (Sequel to 

“Afloat and Ashore”) 20 

415 The Ways of the Hour 20 

416 Jack Tier; or, The Florida Reef 20 

419 TheChainbearer; or,The Little- 

page Manuscripts 20 

420 Satanstoe; or. The Littlepage 

IManuscripts 20 

421 The Redskins; or, Indian and 

Injin. Being the conclusion 
of the Tiittlepage Manuscripts 20 

422 Precaution 20 

423 The Sea Lions; or. The Lost 

Sealers 20 

424 Mercedes of Castile; or. The 

Voyage to Cathay 20 

425 The Oak-Openings ; or. The Bee- 

Hunter 20 

431 The Monikins 20 

Creorgiana M, Craik’s Works. 

450 Godfrey He! stone 20 

€06 3IrK. Hol!y< r ... 20 


B. M. Croker’s Works, 

207 Pretty Miss Neville 20 

260 Proper Pride 10 

412 Some One Else 20 

May Croiumelin’s Works. 

452 In the West Countrie 20 

619 Joy; or, The Light of Cold- 

Home Ford 20 

647 Goblin Gold 10 

Alphonse JBaudet’s Work.v, 


574 The Nabob: AStory of Parisian 

Life and Manners 20 

Charles Dickens’s Works. 

10 The Old Curiosity Shop 20 

22 David Copperfield. Vol. 1 20 

22 David Copperfield. Vol. IT 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. 1 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. II ^ 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. First half. 20 
37 Nicholas Nicklebj". Second half 20 

41 Oliver Twist 20 

77 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

84 Hard Times 10 

91 Barnaby Rudge. 1st half 20 

91 Barnaby Rudge. 2d half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. First half ^ 

94 Little Dorrit. Second half 20 

106 Bleak House. First half 20 

106 Bleak House. Second half 20 

107 Dombey and Son. 1st half ^ 

107 Dombey and Son. 2d half 20 

108 The Cricket on the Hearth, and 

Doctor Marigold 10 

131 Our Mutual Friend. (Isthalf). 20 

131 Our Mutual Friend. (2d half).. 20 

132 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

152 The Uncommercial Traveler. .. 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

169 The Haunted Man 10 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

ChuzzleAvit. First half 20 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

Chuzzlewit. Second half 20 

439 Great Expectations 20 

440 Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings 10 

447 American Notes 20 

448 Pictures From Italy, and The 

Mud fog Papers, &c 20 

454 The Mystery of Edwin Drood.. 20 
456 Sketches by Boz. Illustrative 
of Every-day Life and Every- 
day People 20 

676 A Child’s History of England. 20 

j^arali Douduey’s Woi*ks. 

338 The Family Difficulty 10 

679 Where Two Ways Meet 10 

F. Du Boisgobey’s Works. 

82 Sealed Lips 20 

104 The Coral Pin. 1st half 20 

104 The Coral Pki. 2d half 20 

2(‘4 r e<iou<']ie, a French Detective. 10 


POCKET EDITIOK. 


V 


F. Du Doisgrobey’s Works 

(continued). 

B^iole, the Prettj’- Milliner. 

r irst half 

328 Babiole, the Prettj’' Milliner. 

Second half 

453 The Lottery Ticket 

475 The Prima Donna’s Husband.. 

522 Zig-Zag, the Clown; or, The 

Steel Gauntlets 

523 The Consequences of a Duel. A 

Parisian Romance 

'1)48 The Angel of the Bells 

C97 The Pretty Jailer. 1st half 

697 Tlie Pretty Jailer. 2d half 

699 The Sculptor’s Daughter. 1st 

half 

699 The Sculptor’s Daughter. 2d 

half 

782 The Closed Door. 1st lialf 

782 The Closed Door. 2d half 

851 The Cry of Blood. 1st half 

-851 The Cry of Blood. 2d half 

“The Duchess’s” Works. 

2 Molly Bawn 

6 Portia 

14 Airy Fairy Lilian 

16 Phyllis 

25 Mrs. Geoffrey 

29 Beauty’s Daughters 

30 Faith and Unfaith 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and 

Eric Dering 

119 Monica, and A Rose Distill’d. . . 

123 Sweet is True Love 

129 Rossmoyne 

134 The Witching Hour, and Other 

Stories 

136 “That Last Rehearsal,” and 

Other Stories 

166 Moonshine and Marguerites 

171 Fortune’s Wheel, and Other 

Stories 

2^ Doris 

312 A Week’s Amusement; or, A 

Week in Killarney 

342 The Baby, and One New Year's 

Eve 

390 Mildred Trevanion 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 

Stories 

486 Dick’s Sweetheart 

494 A Maiden All Forlorn, and Bar- 
bara 

^17 A Passive Crime, and Other 

Stories 

541 “ As It Fell Upon a Day.” 

733 Lady Bran ksmere 

771 A Mental Struggle 

785 The Haunted Chamber 

862 Ugly Barrington 

875 Ladj* Valworth’s Diamonds 

Alexander Dumas’ Works. 

55 The Three Guardsmen 

75 Twenty Years After . . 


259 The Bride of Monte-Cristo. A 
Sequel to “The Count of 

Monte-Cristo ” lO 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part 1 2<? 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part II 20 

717 Beau Tancrede; or, The Mar- 
riage Verdict 20 

Maria Edgeworth’s Works. 

708 Ormond 20 

788 The Absentee. An Irish Story. 20 

Mrs, Annie Edwards’s Works, 

64r4 A Girton Girl 20 

834 A Ballroom Repentance 20 

835 Vivian the Beauty 20 

836 A Point of Honor 20 

837 A Vagabond Heroine 10 

838 Ought We to Visit Her? 20 

839 Leah: A Woman of Fashion... 26 

841 Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 10 

842 A Blue-Stocking 10 

843 Archie Lovell 20 

844 Susan Fielding W 

845 Philip Earnscliffe; or. The Mor- 

als of May Fair 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. First half. 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. Second half 20 
850 A Playwright’s Daughter • 10 

George Eliot’s Works. 

3 The Mill on the Floss 20 

31 Middlemarch. 1st half 20 

31 Middlemarch. 2d half 20 

34 Daniel Deronda. 1st half 20 

34 Daniel Deronda. 2d half 20 

36 Adam Bede...' 20 

42 Rornola 20 

693 Felix Holt, the Radical 20 

707 Silas Marner: The Weaver of 

Ravel oe 10 

728 Janet’s Repentance 10 

762 Impressions of Theophrastus 
Such 10 

B, E. Farj eon’s Works. 

179 Little Make-Believe 10 

573 Love’s Harvest 20 

607 Self-Doomed 10 

616 The Sacred Nugget . . 20 

657 Christmas Angel 10 

G. Mauville Fenii’s Works, 

193 The Rosery Folk 10 

558 Poverty Corner 20 

587 The Parson o’ Dumford 20 

609 The Dark House 10 

Octave Feuillet’s Works, 

66 The Romance of a Poor Young 

Man 10 

386 Led Astray; or, “La Petite 

Comtesse ” 10 

Mrs, Forrester’s Works, 

80 June 20 

280 Onirda Vauitas. A Tale of So- 
ciety 10 


20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

20 

10 

10 

10 

20 

20 

10 

10 

20 

20 

20 


VI 


THE SEASIDE LIBIIARV. 


Mrs. Forrester’s Works 

(continued). 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and 

Other Tales 

715 I Have Lived and Loved 

721 Dolores 

724 My Lord and My Lady 

726 My Hero 

727 Fair Women 

729 Mignon 

732 From Olympus to Hades 

734 Viva 

736 Roy and Viola 

740 Rhbna 

744 Diana Carew ; or, For a Wom- 
an’s Sake 

883 Once Again 

Jessie Fothergill’s Works. 

814 Peril 

672 Healey 

R. E. Francilloii’s Works. 

135 A Great Heiress: A -Fortune 

in Seven Checks 

319 Face to Face : A Fact in Seven 

Fables 

360 Ropes of Sand 

656 The Golden Flood. By R. E. 
Francillon and Wm. Senior.. 

Emile Gaboriau’s Works. 

7 File No. 113 ' 

12 Other People’s Money 

20 Within an Inch of His Life 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol I 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol. II 

33 The Clique of Gold 

38 The Widow Lerouge 

43 ‘The Mystery of Orcival 

144 Promises of Marriage 

Charles Gibbon’s Works. 

64 A Maiden Fair 

317 By Mead and Stream 

James Grant’s Works. 

566 The Royal Highlanders ; or, 
The Black Watch in Egypt... 
781 The Secret Dispatch 

Miss Grant’s Works. 

222 The Sun-Maid 

655 Cara Roma 

Arthur Griffiths’s Works. 

614 No. 99 

680 Fast and Loose 

H. Rider Haggard’s Works. 

432 The Witch’s Head 

753 King Solomon’s Mines^ 

Thomas Hardy’s Works. 

139 The Romantic Adventures of 

a Milkmaid 

530 A Pair of Blue Eyes 

690 Far From the Madding CroAvd. 
791 The Mayor of Casterbridge. ... 


John B, Harwood’s Works. 


143 One False, Both Fair 20 

358 Within the Clasp 20 

Mary Cecil Hay’s Works. 

65 Back to the Old Home 10 

72 Old Myddelton’s Money 20 

196 Hidden Perils 10 

197 For Her Dear Sake 20 

224 The Arundel Motto 20 

28 1 The Squire’s Legacy 20 

290 Nora’s Love Test 20 

408 Lester’s Secret 20 

678 Dorothy’s Venture 20 

716 Victor and Vanquished 20 

849 A Wicked Girl 20 

Mrs. Cashel-Hoey’s Works. 

313 The Lover's Creed 20 

802 A Stern Chase 20 

Tighe Hopkins’s Works, 

509 Nell Haffenden, 20 

714 ’Twixt Love and Duty 20 

Works by the Author of Judith 
Wynne.” 

332 Judith Wynne 20 

506 Lady Lovelace 20 

William H. G. Kingston’s Works. 

117 A Tale of the Shore and Ocean. 20 

133 Peter the Whaler 10 

761 Will Weatherhelm 20 

763 The Midshipman, Marmaduke 

Merry 20 

Vernon Lee’s Works. 

399 Miss Brown 20 

859 Ottilie: An Eighteenth Century 
Idyl. By Vernon Lee. The 
Prince of the 100 Soups. Edit- 
ed by Vernon Lee 20 

Charles Lever’s Works. 

191 Harry Lorrequer 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dra- 
goon. First half 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dra- 
goon. Second half 20 

243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” First 

half 20 

243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” Sec- 
ond half 20 

Mary Liiiskill’s Works. 

473 A Lost Son 20 

620 Between the Heather and the 

Northern Sea. 20 

Mrs. E. I.<ynn Unton’s Works. 

122 lone Stewart 20 

817 Stabbed in the Dark... 10 

Samuel Lover’s Works. 

603 Handy Andy 90 

664 Rory O’More ... SO 


10 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

10 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 


POCKET EDITION. 


vii 


Sir E, Bulwer Eytton’s Works. 


^ The Last Days of Pompeii 20 

83 A Strange Story 20 

90 Ernest Maltravers 20 

130 The Last of the Barons. First 

half 20 

130 The Last of the Barons. Sec- 
ond half 20 

162 Eugene Aram 20 

164 Leila ; or, The Siege of Grenada 10 
650 Alice ; or, The Mysteries. (A Se- 
quel to “ Ernest Maltravers ”) 20 
720 Paul Clifford •. 20 

George Macdonald’s Works. 

282 Donal Grant 20 

325 The Portent 10 

326 Phantasies. A Faerie Romance 

for Men and Women 10 

T22 What’s Mine’s Mine 20 

E. MarlUt’s Works. 

652 The Lady with the Rubies 20 

858 Old Ma’m’selle’s Secret 20 

Florence Marryat’s Works. 

159 A Moment of Madness, and 

Other Stories 10 

183 Old Coutrairy, and Other 

Stories 10 

208 The Ghost of Charlotte Cray, 

and Other Stories 10 

276 Under the Lilies and Roses — 10 

444 The Heart of Jane Warner 20 

449 Peeress and Player 20 

689 The Heir Presumptive 20 

825 The Master Passion 20 

860 Her Lord and Master 20 

861 My Sister the Actress 20 

■ 863 “iVly Own Child.” 20 

864 “No Intentions.” 20 

865 Written in Fire 20 

866 Miss Harrington’s Husband... 20 

867 The Girls of Feversham 20 

868 Petronel 20 

869 The Poison of Asps 10 

870 Out of His Reckoning 10 

872 With Cupid’s Eyes 20 

873 A Harvest of Wild Oats 20 

877 Facing the Footlights 20 

Captain Marryat’s Works. 

88 The Privateersman 20 

272 The Little Savage 10 

Helen B. Mathers’s Works. 

13 Eyre’s Acquittal 10 

221 Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye 20 

438 Found Out 10 

535 Murder or Manslaughter? 10 

673 Story of a Sin 20 

713 “ Clierry Ripe ” 20 

795 Sam’s Sweetheart 20 

798 The Fashion of this World 10 

799 My Lady Green Sleeves 20 


Justin McCarthy’s Works. 


121 Maid of Athens 20 

602 Camiola 20 

685 England Under Gladstone. 

1880-1885 20 


747 Our Sensation Novel. Edited 

by Justin H. McCarthv, M.P.. 10 
779 Doom ! An Atlantic Episode. . . 10 

Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller's 
Works. 


267 Laurel Vane; or, The Girls’ 

Conspiracy 20 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or, The 

Miser’s Treasure 20 

269 Lancaster’s Choice 20 

316 Sworn to Silence; or. Aline 

Rodney’s Secret 20 

Jean Middleiiias’s Works. 

155 Lady Muriel’s Secret 20 

539,Silvermead 20 

Alan Muir’s Works. 

172 “Golden Girls” 20 

346 Tumbledown Farm 10 

Miss ]>Inlock’s Works. 

11 John Halifax, Gentleman 20 

245 Miss Tommy, and In a House- 

Boat 10 

808 King Arthur. Not a Love Story 20 

David Christie Murray’s Works. 

58 By the Gate of the Sea 10 

195 “The Way of the World” 20 

320 A Bit of Human Nature 10 

661 Rainbow Gold 20 

674 First Person Singular 20 

691 Valentine Strange 20 

695 Hearts: Queen, Knave, and 

Deuce 20 

698 A Life’s Atonement 20 

737 Aunc Rachel 10 

826 Cynic Fortune 20 


Works by the author of “ My 
Ducats and My Daughter.” 

376 The Crime of Christmas Day. 10 
596 My Ducats and Mj’' Daughter... 20 

W. E. Norris’s Works.’ 


184 Thirlby Hall 20 

277 A Man of His Word 10 

355 That Terrible Man 10 

500 Adrian Vidal 20 

824 Her Own Doing 10 

848 My Friend Jim 10 

871 A Bachelor’s Blunder 20 

Ijaureuce Oliphant’s Works. 

47 Altiora Peto 20 

537 Piccadilly .. 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. 


Till 


Mrs. Oliphant’s Works. 

46 A Little Pilgrrim 10 

177 Salem Chapel 20 

li05 The Minister’s Wife 30 

321 The Prodigals, and Their In- 
heritance 10 

337 Memoirs and Resolutions of 
Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
including some Chronicles of 

the Borough of Fendie 20 

345 Madam 20 

351 The House on the Moor 20 

357 John 20 

370 Lucy Crofton 10 

371 Margaret Maitland 20 

377 Magdalen Hepburn : A Story of 

the Scottish Reformation 20 

402 Lilliesleaf ; or, Passages in the 
Life of Mrs. Margaret Mait- 
land of Sunnyside 20 

410 Old Lady Mary 10 

527 The Da vs of My Life 20 

528 At His Gates 20 

568 The Perpetual Curate 20 

669 Harrj’^ Muir 20 

603 Agnes. 1st half 20 

603 Agnes. 2d half 20 

604 Innocent. 1st half 20 

604 Innocent. 2d half 20 

605 Ombra 20 

645 Oliver’s Bride 10 

655 The Open Door,and The Portrait 10 

687 A Country Gentleman 20 

703 A House Divided Against Itself 20 
710 The Greatest Heiress in England 20 

827 Effie Ogilvie 20 

880 The Son of His Father 20 

“ Ouida’s ” Works. 

4 Under Two Flags 20 

9 Wanda, Countess von Szalras.. 20 

116 Moths 20 

128 Afternoon and Other Sketches. 10 

226 Friendship 20 

228 Princess Napraxine 20 

238 Pascarel 20 

239 Signa 20 

433 A Rainy June 10 

639 Othmar 20 

671 Don Gesualdo 10 

672 In Maremma. First half 20 

672 In Mare mm a. Second half 20 

874 A House Party 10 

James Payn’s Works. 

48 Thicker Than Water 20 

186 The Canon’s Ward 20 

843 The Talk of the Town ^ 

577 In Peril and Privation 10 

589 The Luck of the Darrells 20 

823 The Heir of the Ages 20 

Miss Jane Porter’s Works. 

660 The Scottish Chiefs. 1st half.. 20 
660 The Scottish Chiefs. 2d half.. 20 
696 Thaddeus of Warsaw ^ 

Cecil Power’s Works. 

836 Philistia 20 

611 Babylon 20 


Mrs. Campbell Praed’s Works. 

428 Zero: A Story of Monte-Carlo. 10 


477 Affinities 10 

811 The Head Station 20 


Eleanor C. Price’s Works. 

173 The Foreigners 20 

331 Gerald 20 

Charles Reade’s Works. 

46 Very Hard Cash 20 

98 A Woman-Hater 20 

206 The Picture, and Jack of All 

Trades 10 

210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 
rent Events 10 

213 A Terrible Temptation sk) 

214 Put Yourself in His Place 20 

216 Foul Play ^ 

231 Griffith Gaunt; or, Jealousy... ^ 

232 Love and Money ; or, A Perilous 

Secret 10 

235 “It is Never Too Late to 
Mend. ” A Matter-of-Fact Ro- 
mance 20 


Mrs. J. H. Riddell’s Works. 


71 A Struggle for Fame 20 

593 Berna Boyle 20 

“Rita’s” Works. 

252 A Sinless Secret 10 

446 Dame Durden 20 

598 “ Corinna.” A Study 10 

617 Like Dian’s Kiss 20 


F. W. Robinson’s Works. 

157 Milly’sHero 20 

217 The Man She Cared For 20 

261 A Fair Maid 20 

455 Lazarus in London 20 

590 The Courting of Mary Smith. . . 20 


W. Clark Russell’s Works. 

85 A Sea Queen ^ 

109 Little Loo 20 

180 Round the Galley Fire 10 

209 John Holdsworth, Chief Mate. . 10 

223 A Sailor’s Sweetheart 20 

592 A Strange Voyage 20 

682 In the Middle Watch. Sea 

Stories 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship, 1st half ^ 

743 Jack’s Courtship. 2d half 20 

Adeline Sergeant’s Works. 

2.57 Beyond Recall 10 

812 No Saint 20 

Sir Walter Scott’s Works. 

28 Ivanhoe 20 

201 The Monastery 20 

202 The Abbot. (Sequel to “The 

Monastery ”) 20 

353 The Black Dwarf, and A Le- 
gend of Montrose 20 

362 The Bride of Lammermoor., 90 

363 The Surgeon’s Daughter 10 

364 Castle Dangerous 10 


POCKET EDITION. 


IX 


Sir Waiter Scott’s Works 

(continued^ 

391 The Heart of Mid-Lothian 20 

892 Peveril of the Peak 20 

898 The Pirate 20 

401 Waverle}’ 20 

417 The Fair Maid of Perth; or, St. 

Valentine’s Day 20 

418 St. Ronan’s Well 20 

463 Redganntlet. A Tale of the 

Eighteenth Century 20 

J507 Chronicles of the Canongate, 

and Other Stories 10 

William Sime’s Works. 

429 Boulderstone ; or, New Men and 

Oid Populations. 10 

580 Tlie Red Route 20 

597 Haco the Dreamer.. 10 

649 Cradle and Spade 20 

Hawley Smart’s Works. 

348 From Post to Finish. A Racing 

Romance 20 

367 Tie and Trick 20 

550 Struck Down 10 

847 Bad to Beat 10 

Frank E. Smedley’s Works. 

333 Frank Fairlegh; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Private 

Pupil 20 

,562 Lewis Arundel; or. The Rail- 
road of Life 20 

T. W. Speight’s Works. 

150 For Himself Alone 10 

653 A Barren Title 10 

Robert Louis Stevenson’s Works. 

686 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and 

Mr. Hyde 10 

704 Prince Otto 10 

832 Kidnapped 20 

855 The Dynamiter 20 

■856 Ne^v Arabian Nights 20 

Julian Sturgis’s Works. 

405 My Friends and I. Edited 

Julian Sturgis 10 

694 John Maidment 20 


Eugene Sue’s Works, 

270 The Wandering Jew. Parti... 20 

270 The 5Vandering Jew. Part H. . 20 

271 The Mysteries of Paris. Part I. 20 
271 The Mysteries of Paris. Part II. 20 

George Temple’s Works. 


599 I^ancelot Ward, M.P 10 

612 Britta 10 

William M. Thackeray’s Works. 

27 Vanity B’air 20 

165 Tha History of Henry Esmond. 20 

464 The Newcomes. Part 1 20 

464 Tl)e Newcomes. Part II 20 

4)70 The Rose and the Ring. Illus- 
trated 10 


Works by the Author of “The 
Two iYliss Flemings.” 


637 What’s His Offence? 20 

780 Rare Pale Margaret 20 

784 The Two Miss B’lemings 20 

831 Pomegranate Seed 20 

Annie Thomas’s Works. 

141 She Loved Him ! 10 

142 Jenifer 20 

565 No Medium 10 

Anthony Trollope’s Works. 

32 The Land Leaguers 20 

93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 
raphy 26 

147 Rachel Ray 20 

200 An Old Man’s Love 10 

531 The Prime Minister. 1st half. . 2Q 

531 The Prime Minister. 2d half. .. 2(i 

621 The Wai-den 10 

622 Harry Heathcote of Gangoil. . . lO 
667 The Golden Lion of Granpere.. 20 

700 Ralph the Heir. 1st half 20 

700 Ralph the Heir. 2d half 20 

775 The Three Clerks 

Margaret Veley’s Works, 

298 Mitchelhurst Place 10 

586 “ For Percival ” 20 

Jules Verne’s Works. 

87 Dick Sand ; or, A Captain at 

Fifteen 26 

100 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas. ,20 
368 The Southern Star; or, the Dia- 

mond*Land 20 

395 The Archipelago on Fire 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 

Part I 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 

Part II 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 

Partin 10 

659 The Waif of the “ Cynthia ”... 20 
751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators.’ First half 20 

751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators. Second half 26 

833 Ticket No. “ 9672.” First half. . 10 

L. B. Walford’s Works. 

241 The Baby’s Grandmother 10 

256 Mr. Smith : A Part of His Life. 20 

258 Cousins 20 

658 The History of a Week 10 

F. Warden’s Works. 

192 At the World’s Mercy 10 

248 The House on the Marsh 10 

286 Deldee: or. The Iron Hand 20 

482 A Vagrant Wife 20 

556 A Prince of Darkness 20 

820 Doris's Fortune 10 


X 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. 


William Ware’s Works. 

f09 Zenobia; or, The Fall of Pal- 
myra. 1st half 20 

709 Zenobia; or, The Fall of Pal- 
myra. 2d half 20 

760 Aurelian; or, Rome in the Third 
Century 20 

E. Werner’s Works. 

S27 Raymond’s Atonement 20 

510 At a High Price 20 

fi.'J. Wliyte-Melville’s Works. 

409 Roy’s Wife 20 

451 Market Harborough, and Inside 

the Bar 20 

John Strange Winter’s Works. 

492 Mignon ; or, Booties’ Baby. Il- 
lustrated 10 

600 Houp-La. Illustrated 10 

638 In Quarters with the 25th (The 

Black Horse) Dragoons 10 

688 A Man of Honor. Illustrated.. 10 
746 Cavalry Life; or, Sketches and 
Stories in Barracks and Out.. 20 
813 Army Societ 5 ^ Life in a Gar- 
rison Town 10 

818 Pluck 10 

876 Mignon’s Secret 10 

Mrs. Henry Wood’s Works. 

8 East Lynne 20 

255 The Mystery 20 

277 The Surgeon’s Daughters 10 

508 The Unholy Wish 10 

513 Helen Whitney’s Wedding, and 

Other Tales 10 

514 The Mystery of Jessy Page, and 

Other Tales ! 10 

610 The Story of Dorothy Grape, 

and Other Tales 10 

Charlotte M. Yonge’s W^orks. 

247 The Armourer's Prentices 10 

275 The Three Brides 10 

535 Henrietta’s AVish; or, Domi- 
neering ". 10 

563 The Two Sides of the Shield 20 

' 640 Nuttie’s Father 20 

665 The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest. . 20 

666 My Young Alcides: A Faded 

Photograph 20 

739 The Caged Lion . . 20 

742 Love and Life 20 

783 Chanti’y House 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls ; or. The 
AVhite and Black Ribaumont. 

First half 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or. The 
White and black Ribaumont. 

Second half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 

First half 20 

800 .Hopes and Fears: or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 
Second half. 20 


Miscellaneous. 


Ihe Story of Ida. Francesca. . 1C 
Charlotte Temple. Mrs. Row- 

son 10 

Barbara’s History. Amelia B. 

Edwards 20 

Rose Fleming. Dora Russell., li 
A Noble AVife. John Saunders 20 
The Little School-master Mark. 

J. H. Shorthouse 10 

The Waters of Marah. John 

Hill 20 

Mrs. Carr’s Companion. 31. G. 

AVightwick 10 

Some of Our Girls. 3Irs. C. J. 

Eiloart 20 

Diamond Cut Diamond. T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 

Tom Brown’s School Days at 

Rugby. Thomas Hughes 20 

Adrian Bright. 3Irs. Caddy 20 

The Captain’s Daughter, From 

the Russian of Pushkin 10 

The Ducie Diamonds. C. Blath- 

erwick 10 

“For a Dream’s Sake.” 3Irs. 

Herbert Martin 20 

The Starling. Norman 3Iac- 

leod, D.D 10- 

Her Gentle Deeds. Sarah Tytler 10 
The Lady of Lyons. Founded 
on the Play of that title by 

Lord Lytton 10 

AA’inifred Power. Joyce Dar- 
rell 20 

A Great Treason. Mary Hop- 

pus Si 

Under a Ban. Mrs. Lodge 20 

An April Day. Philippa Prit- 

tie Jephson lOr 

3Iore Leaves from the Journal 
of a Life in the Highlands. 

Queen Victoria 10 

The 3Iillionaire 20 

Dita. Lady 3Iargaret 3Iajendie 10 
The 3Iidnight Sun. Fredrika 

Bremer 10 

A Husband’s Story 10 

John Bull and His Island. 3Iax 
O’Rell 10 


Agnes Sorel. G. P. R. James.. 20 
Lady Clare : or. The 3Iaster of 


the Forges. Georges Ohnet 10 
The Two Orphans. D'Eunery. 10 
The Amazon. Carl Vosmaer. . 10 
The Water-Babies. Rev. Chas. 

Kingsley 10 

Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 
Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Letters 10 

Little Goldie : A Story of AA' Om- 
an’s Love. 3Irs. Sumner Hay- 
den .• 20 

The Gambler’s Wife 20 

John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
Tli*e Light. A “ Brutal Sax- 
on** ii 


53 

61 

99 

103 

105 

111 

112 

113 

114 

115 

120 

127 

149 

151 

156 

158 

160 

161 

163 

170 

174 

176 

178 

182 

185 

187 

198 

203 

218 

219 

242 

253 

266 

274 

279 

285 

289 


POCKET EDITION. 


xi 


Misceiraneous— Continued. 

Sll Two Years Before the Mast. R. 

H. Dana, Jr 20 

323 A Willful Maid 20 

329 The Polish Jew. (Translated 

from the French by Caroline 
A. Merighi.) Erckmann Chat- 
rian 10 

330 May Blossom ; or, BeUveen Two 

Loves. Margaret Lee 20 

334 A Marriage of Convenience. 

Harriett Jay 10 

335 The White Witch 20 

340 Under Which King? Compton 

Reade 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or, The Little 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminaiy. 

Laura Jean Libbey 20 

347 As Avon Flows. Henry Scott 

Vince 20 

350 Diana of the Crossways. George 

Meredith 10 

352 At Any Cost. Edward Garrett. 10 

354 The Lottery of Life. A Story 

of New York Twenty Years 
Ago. John Brougham 20 

355 Tne Princess Dagomar of Po- 

land. Heinrich Felbermann. 10 

356 A Good Hater. Frederick Boyle 20 
365 George Christy ; or. The Fort- 


unes of a Minstrel. Tony 

Pastor 20 

366 The Mysterious Hunter'; or. 
The Man of Death. Capt. L. 

C. Carleton 20 

369 Miss Bretherton. Mrs. Hum- 
phry Ward 10 

374 The i)ead Man’s Secret. Dr. 

Jupiter Paeon 20 

381 The Red Cardinal. Frances 

Elliot 10 

382 Three Sisters. Elsa D’Esterre- 

Keeling 10 

383 Introduced to Societ}^ Hamil- 

ton A id 6 10 

387 The Secret of the Cliffs. Char- 
lotte French 20 

389 Ichabod. A Portrait. Bertha 

Thomas 10 

403 An English Squire. C. R. Cole- 
ridge 20 

406 The Merchant’s Clerk. Samuel 

Warren 10 

407 Tylney Hall. Thomas Hood. . . 20 
426 Venus’s Doves. Ida Ashworth 

Taylor 20 

430 A Bitter Reckoning. Author 

of “By Crooked Paths ” — 10 

435 Klytia ; A Story of Heidelberg 

Castle. George Taylor 20 

436 Stella. Fanny Lewald 20 

441 A Sea Changfe. Flora L. Shaw. 20 

442 Ranthorpe. George Henry 

Lewes 20 

443 The Bachelor of the Albany. . . 10 
457 The Russians at the Gates of 

Herat. Charles Marvin 10 


A Week of Passion ; or. The 
Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 


ton the Younger. Edward 

Jenkins 20 

The Fortunes, Good and Bad, 
of a Sewing-Girl. Charlotte 

M. Stanley 10 

Serapis. An Historical Novel. 

George Ebers 20 

Louisa. Katharine S. Blacquoid 20 
Betwixt My Love and Me. By 
author of “ A Golden Bar ”. . . 10 
Tinted Vapours. J. Maclaren 

Cobban 10 

Societ}^ in London. A Foreign 

Resident 10 

Colonel Enderby’s Wife. Lucas 
Malet 20 

Mr. Butler’s Ward. F. Mabel 

Robinson 20 

Curly : An Actor’s Story. John 

Coleman 10 

The Society of London. Count 

Paul Vasili 10 

A Mad Love. Author of “ Lover 

and Lord : 10 

The Waters of Hercules 20 

The Hidden Sin 20 

James Gordon’s Wife 20 

Madame De Presnel. E. Fran- 
ces Poynter 20 

Arden Court. Barbara Graham 20 

Hazel Kirke. Marie Walsh 20 

Dissolving Views. Mrs. Andrew 

Lang 10 

Vida’s Story. By the anther of 
“Guilty Without Crime”.. . 10 
IMrs. Keith’s Crime. A Novel . . 10 
Paul Crew’s Story. Alice Co- 
rny ns Carr 10 

The Finger of Fate. Captain 

Mayne Reid 20 

The Betrothed. (I Promessi 
Sposi.) Allessandro Manzoiii 20 
Lucia, Hugh and Another. Mrs. 

J. H. Needed 20 

Victory Deane. Cecil Griffith . . 20 

Mixed Motives 10 

Lancelot Ward, M.P. George 

Temple 10 

My Wife’s Niece. By the author 

of “ Dr. Edith Romney ” 20 

Primus in Indis. M. J. Colqu- 

houn 10 

Wedded Hands. By the author 

of “ My Lady’s Folly ” 20 

The Unforeseen. Alice O’Han- 
lon 20 

The Rabbi’s Spell. Stuart C. 

Cumberland 10 

The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey 
Crayon, Gent. Washington 

Irving 20 

“ Us.” An Old-fashioned Story. 

Mrs. Molesw'orth 10 

The Mystery of Allan Grale. 

Isabella Fyvie Mayo 20 

Half-Way. An Anglo-French 


Romance 80 


458 

468 

474 

479 

483 

485 

491 

493 

501 

504 

505 

510 

512 

518 

519 

526 

532 

.583 

536 

545 

546 

571 

575 

581 

582 

583 

584 

599 

612 

624 

628 

634 

641 

643 

654 

662 

068 


THE SEASIDE LIBRAKY. 


xii 


]Ui8cel!aiieous'~Continued. 

669 Tlie Philosophy of Wliist. 

William Pole 20 

675 Mrs. Dymond. Miss Thackeray 20 
681 A Singer’s Story. May Laffan. 10 
683 The Bachelor Vicar of New- 
forth. Mrs. J. Harcourt-Roe. 20 


684 Last Days at Apswicli 10 

692 The Mikado, and Other Comic 
Operas. Written by W. S. 
Gilbert. Composed by Arthur 
Sullivan 20 

705 The Woman I Loved, and the 

Woman Who Loved Me. Isa 
Bla^den 10 

706 A Crimson Stain. Annie Brad- 

shaw 10 

712 For Maimie’s Sake. Grant 
Allen 20 

718 Unfairly W^ou. Mrs. Power 

O’Donoghue 20 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. 

Lord Byron 10 

723 Mauleverer’s Millions. T. We- 

myss Reid 20 

725 My Ten Years’ Imprisonment. 

Silvio Pellico 10 

730 The Autobiography of Benja- 
min Franklin 10 

735 Until the Day Breaks. Emily 

Spender 20 

738 In the Golden Days. Edna 

Lyall 20 

748 Hurrish: A Study. By the 
Hon. Emily Lawless 20 


750 An Old Story of My Farming 
Days. Fritz Reuter. 1st half 20 
750 An Old Storj’’ of My Fai ming 


Days. Fritz Reuter. 2d half 20 
752 Jackanapes, and Other Stories. 

Juliana Horatia Ewing 10 

754 How to be Happy Though Mar- 

ried. By a Graduate in the 
University of Matrimony 20 

755 Margery Daw 20 

756 The Strange Adventures of Cap- 

tain Dangerous. A Narrative 
in Plain English. Attempted 
by George Augustus Sal a 20 


757 Love’s Martyr. Laurence Alma 

Taderna ]0 

759 In Shallow Waters. Annie Ar- 

mitt 20 

766 No. XIII; or. The Story of the 
Lost Vestal. Emma Mar- 
shall 10 

770 The Castle of Otranto. Hor- 
ace Walpole 10 

773 The Mark of Cain. Andrew 

Lang 10 

774 The Life and Travels of Mungo 

Park 10 

776 P^re Goriot. Honor6 De Bal- 

zac 20 

777 The Voyages and Travels of 

of Sir John Maundeville, Kt.. 10 

778 Society’s Verdict. By the au- 

thor of “My Marriage” 20 

786 Ethel Mildmay’s Follies. B3' au- 
thor of “Petite’s Romance ”. 20 
793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Eail of 
Beaconsfield. First half 20 


7’93 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. Second half .. . 20 
801 She Stoops to Conquer, and 
The Good-Natured Man. Oli- 
ver Goldsmith 10 

803 Major Frank. A. L. G. Bos- 

boom-Toiissaint 20 

807 If Love Be Love. D. Cecil Gibbs 20 
809 Witness My Hand. B}’- author 
of “ Lady Gwendolen's Tryst ” 10 


810 The Secret of Her Life. Ed- 
ward Jenkins 20 

816 Rogues and Vagabonds. By 
George R. Sims, author of 

“ ’Ostler Joe ” 20 

822 A Passion Flower. A Novel 20 

852 Under Five Lakes. M. Quad.. 20 
879 The Touchstone of Peril. A 
Novel of Anglo-Indian Life, 
With Scenes During the Mu- 
tiny. By R. E. Forrest 20 


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LATEST ISSUES: 


NO, PltlOK. 

609 Pole on Whist 20 

864 “ ISlo Intentions.'” Florence 

Marryat 20 

865 Written in Fire. By Florence 

Marryat 20 

866 Miss Harrington’s Husband. By 

Florence Blarryat 20 

867 The Girls of Feversliani. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

868 Petronel. By Florence Marryat 20 

869 The Poison of Asps. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 10 

870 Out of His Reckoning. By 

Florence Marryat 10 

871 A Bachelor’s Blunder. By AV. 

E. Norris 20 

87'2 With Cupid’s Eyes. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 

873 A Harvest of AVild Oats. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

874 A House Party. By “Ouida” 10 

875 Lady A’^al worth’s Diamonds. By 

“ The Duchess ” 20 

876 Mignon’s Secret. John Strange 

AATnter 10 

877 Facing the Footlights. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 20 

878 Little Tu’penny. By S. Baring- 

Gould 10 

879 The Touchstone of Peril. By 

R. E. Forrest 20 

880 The Son of His Father. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

881 Mohawks. By Miss M. E. Brad- 

don 20 

882 Children of Gibeon. ByAA^alter 

Besant 20 

883 Once Again. B3' Mrs. For- 

rester 20 

884 A V’'oyage to the Cape. By AV. 

Clark Russell 20 

885 Les Miserables. Victor Hugo. 

Part 1 20 

885 Les Miserables. Victor Hugo. 
Part H 20 

885 Les Miserables. A^ictor Hugo. 

Part HI 20 

886 Paston Carew, Millionaire and 

Miser. Mrs. E. Lynn Linton. 20 

887 A Modern Telemachus. By 

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888 Treasure Island. Robert Louis 

Stevenson 10 

889 An Inland Voyage. By Robert 

Louis Stevenson 10 

890 The Mistletoe Bough. Christ- 

mas^ 1886. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 


NO. I’UICIC* 

891 VeraNevill; or. Poor AAHsdom’s 

Chance. By Airs. H. Lovett 
Cameron 20 

892 Tliat AA^inter Night; or, Love’s 

A^ictoiy. Robert Buchanan. 10 

893 Love’s Conflict. By Florence 

Alarryat. First lialf 20 

893 Love’s Conflict. B.y Florence 

Alarryat. Second half 20 

894 D o c t o r C u p i d . Bj’’ Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

895 A Star and a Heart. By Flor- 

ence Alanyat 10 

896 The Guilty River. By AVilkie 

Collins 10 

807 Ange. By Florence Alarryat. . . 20 

898 Bulldog and Butterfly, and Julia 
and Her Romeo, by David 
Christie Alurraj". Romeo and 
Juliet: A Tale of Two Young 


Fools, by AATlliam Black 20 

8I)i) A Little Stepson. By Florence 

Alarryat 10 

900 1>3" Woman’s AVit. B.y Airs. Al- 

exander ‘ 20 

901 A Lucky Disappointment. By 

Florence Alarryat 10 

902 A Poor Gentleman. By Airs. 

Oliphant. First half 20 

902 A Poor Gentleman. By Airs. 

Oliphant. Second half 20 

903 Phyllida. B.y Florence Alarryat 20 

904 The Holy Rose. By AA’ alter Be- 

sant 10 

905 The Fair-Haired Alda. By Flor- 

ence Alarryat 20 

906 The AA'orld AVent Very Well 

Then. By AA^alter Besant 20 

907 The Bright Star of Life. By B. 

L. Far jeon 20 

908 A AA'illful A^'oung AVoman 20 

909 The Nine of Hearts. By B. L. 

Farjeon 20 

910 She: A History of Adventure. 

By H. Rider Haggard 20 

911 Golden Bells: A Peal in Seven 

Changes. By R. E. Francillon 20 

912 Pure Gold. By Airs. H. Lovett 

Cameron. First half 20 

912 Pure Gold. By Airs. H. Lovett 

Cameron. Second half 20 

913 The Silent Shore. By John 

Bloundelle-Burton 20 

914 Joan Wentworth. By Katharine 

S. Alacquoid * 20 

915 That Other Person. First half 20 
915 That Other Person. Second half 20 
917 The Case of Reuben Alalachi, 

By H. Sutherland Edwards.. 10 


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JUST ISSUED, 


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JOLIET CORSON'S 

NEW FAMILY COOK BOOK. 

BY MISS JUIilET CORSON, 

Author of “ MeaU for the Blillion,” etc,, etc. 
Superintendent op the New York School of Cookery. 


PEIOE: HANDSOMELY BOUND IN CLOTH, $1.00. 

A COMPREHENSIVE COOK BOOK 

For Family Use in City and Country. 

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IN AMERICAN HOUSEHOLDS. 

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Soups, Seasouiug, Stuffing and Stews, 

How to Make Good Bread, Biscuit, Omelets, Jellies, Jams, Pan« 
cakes. Fritters and Fillets. 


Miss Corson is the best American writer on cooking. All of her recipes 
have been carefully tested in the New York School of Cookery. If her direc- 
tions are carefully followed there will b« no failures and no reason for com- 
plaint. Her directions are alwaj’s plain, very complete, and easily followed. 

Juliet Corson’s New Family Cook Book 

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arts and mysteries of personal decoration, and for increasing the natural 
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and body that detract from appearance and happiness are made the subjects 
of precise and excellent recipes. Ladies are instructed how to reduce their 
weight without injury to health and without producing pallor and weakness. 
Nothing necessary to a complete toilet book of recipes and valuable advice and 
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Invitations to Entertainments, Letters Accepting and Declining Invi- 
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Between Betrothed Lovers, Letters of a Young Girl to 
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hold Management, Letters Accompanying Gifts. 


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THE CELEBRATED 


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GRAITD, SQUAEE AND UPRIGHT PIANOS. 


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SOHMER & CO., Manufacturers, No. 149 to 155 E. 1, 4th Street, N. Y. 


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